


You, Me, & Infinity

by hobiyah



Series: Nails, Hair, Hips, Heels [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Drag Queens, Alternate Universe - Idols, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Angst, Boo Seungkwan-centric, Developing Relationship, Drag Queens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Humor, Idols, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Other, Secret Relationship, Seungkwan Sexy, Slow Burn, basically queer svt w token het mingyu sorry mingyu, its such a gay fic yall weve got drag family perf team ace hansol nb wonwoo, seokjin gay, the violence tag isnt really physical i just wanted to put it on in case, this could also be summarised as:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:15:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobiyah/pseuds/hobiyah
Summary: Perhaps that American TV show had influenced him more than he’d realised, because the name comes to him easily. “How about Tangerina?”orBoo Seungkwan is a struggling adult by day, a drag queen by night, and Kim Seokjin's boyfriend in secret. Trying to balance it all is an art form he has yet to master.





	You, Me, & Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> i can't say this is connected to [hands on the clock](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17943677), but this fic did start with the intention of writing tangerina's backstory! if you catch the reference to that fic in here, kudos to you! (though its deffo not required reading for this fic!!)  
> it is, however, connected to [ready for it,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21232049/chapters/50551172#workskin) though that isn't required reading, either! both can work as standalones, as they cover a similar timeline, and i wrote them more to be complimentary of each other :)
> 
> the chronology of this work is based on the canon/irl timeline, but isn't meant to be an exact replica. if things are out of order (i particularly took some liberties with the bts schedule near the end), i hope it doesn't interrupt your reading!  
> also, i'm using the korean age system :)
> 
> think i should put a slight warning: this fic is focused on drag queen kwan and the boojin relationship, so there is some discussion of identity and sexuality, as well as some scenes of prejudice in this work. the violence tag is related to this, but it's off screen, i'm tagging it because of the aftermath
> 
> with that being said, i hope you enjoy!

He remembers being ten years old, and hearing his Ma and sister yelling about something he doesn’t quite understand.

“You’re sixteen, Jinseol! You don’t know what you want!”

“I do! I know that I don’t want boys! Not now, not ever!”

“Will you stop screaming? The neighbours will hear you!”

“I don’t care! I want to be who I am!” Jinseol is clearly upset, and he’s already anticipating how moody this will make her for the next few days. However, he’s nothing if not an opportunist. He takes the opening of his mother’s distraction to sneak into her bedroom, hunting for her box of makeup.

He’s been doing this for as long as he can remember. Putting on makeup, dressing up in his sisters’ old clothes, doing anything to look pretty. When he was younger, it was a fun game; he would dress up, his Ma would do his makeup, and he’d give them a performance, dancing or singing or both. It made him feel special; even though his family always gave him lots of love, this felt like his _thing_ , a game no one else in the family could do like he did, that other boys didn’t do like him. Since he’d started primary school, though, Ma has become less and less fond of the game, even as he became more enthusiastic about trying new colours, new clothes, more ambitious routines. For him, it becomes more fun the more ambitious he becomes; for his Ma, it becomes more of a worry.

The bedroom door shuts with a click and he jerks, snapping back to look to the door, lipstick frozen at his mouth. It’s Sojeong, who must have seen him sneak in.

“Ma won’t be happy if she sees you doing that again,” she says, without much admonishment.

“Ma is already unhappy,” he responds, looking back to the mirror to finish applying the red makeup.

“True,” Sojeong agrees, and comes over to sit on their Ma’s bed, watching him.

He rummages through the makeup box again. His Ma only has one eyeshadow palette, and he’s tired of the same similar brown colours. He looks over to his sister. “Do you think Noona would mind if I used her makeup?”

Sojeong looks at him like he’s an idiot. “You should ask her, not me. And not right now, Kwannie. Can’t you hear they’re having an argument?”

He shrugs. “They’re always arguing. Da says it’s because of her puberty.”

“Da doesn’t know what it’s like to live with them,” Sojeong murmurs.

“Ma doesn’t have enough makeup,” he complains, pulling out a tube of mascara. “I want more interesting colours.”

“This isn’t the right time, Seungkwan. They’re arguing about serious things, and if Ma sees you doing this, she’ll be more upset. Go and wash it off, okay?”

Seungkwan doesn’t see what the fuss is about, pouting at the suggestion. “She didn’t mind when I was younger.”

“Well, things change, and you’re not younger anymore,” Sojeong says, with finality. “Come on, let’s go and wash your face.”

She takes the makeup box from him and slides it back into Ma’s bedside drawer. Sojeong is usually the most supportive of his fashion choices, so it’s disheartening to have her put him down this time, and he still doesn’t understand why he can’t dress up if he wants to. He lets her take him by the hand and lead them out of the room, sneak towards the bathroom. Unfortunately, the open-plan apartment they live in doesn’t allow for successful stealth, and Ma catches them halfway down the corridor, storming up to Seungkwan and taking him by the hand.

“Look! This is the sort of behaviour you’re encouraging! We’ll lose all respect, Jinseol, if you go around acting like this!” She shakes his arm, not to hurt him, but to emphasise her distress to her eldest daughter. Sojeong stands beside them, poker-faced.

“You were always the one who thought it was funny, Ma!” Jinseol shouts, and he stares at the tears staining her cheeks. “He’s happy and you know he loves it, so who cares about what other people think! God, just let us be happy!” He can tell she’s trying to refrain from swearing. She never swears around Ma or Da, but often around him and Sojeong. They think it’s funny. He tries to think about that rather than his Ma and Noona being so upset.

“You’re children! You can decide what you want when you’re an adult! Until then, you’re my daughter, and you’ll listen to what I have to say!”

 

-

 

He remembers being eleven years old, and his new friend from school, Hansol, comes over to his house for the first time. Hansol is a little quiet, but Seungkwan can work with that, heading straight to the PlayStation 3, to help open him up. They’re kids, so of course it works, Hansol yelling at his various losses, giggling in delight whenever he wins a round of Mortal Kombat.

After a while, Ma shoos them into Seungkwan’s bedroom and they argue about which Pokémon is better. Charmander vs Squirtle turns out to be a divisive issue, and he insists Hansol is crazy if he thinks Charmander is better.

Hansol slides his bare feet back and forth against the floor repetitively. “But Charmander is basically a dragon. How can you say a turtle is better?”

“Squirtle is so cute! And turtles are real, so they would instantly win in real life.”

“You don’t know that dragons aren’t real,” Hansol says, sticking out his tongue.

“I do too. Have you ever seen a dragon?”

“Have you ever seen a turtle?” Hansol challenges, and his foot snags on a piece of clothing crumpled on Seungkwan’s bedroom floor. It unfolds to reveal itself as one of Sojeong’s skirts, and Hansol snorts in surprise.

“Why do you have this?”

Something in Seungkwan tells him to lie, but he’s never been one to bend to shame. “I was wearing it yesterday.”

Hansol looks at him strangely. “Really? Why?”

Seungkwan shrugs. He’s never really been asked the question why—he’s just always done it. “Wanted to.”

Hansol stares at him for a few moments. “Are you a girl?” he asks, as if Seungkwan has been duping him for the past few weeks of their friendship.

Seungkwan laughs at him. “No! I just like wearing my sisters’ clothes sometimes.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, as if that clears everything up.

Seungkwan plucks at his socks nervously. He’d known in an abstract way that other boys don’t really do this sort of thing, but he’s never really considered how it might seem strange to them.

Hansol speaks up again. “My younger brother keeps saying he wishes he was a girl. Is it like that? Do you want to be a girl?”

He hadn’t expected the question, though he knows the answer instinctively. “No. I just like dressing up and singing.”

“Oh.” There’s another pause. “Are you gay?” The word sounds strange and foreign in Hansol’s mouth, but Seungkwan knows what it means, has heard the other kids at school pass it around as an insult.

“No!” he says. “I just want to dress up sometimes!” How many times does he have to say it? It’s very straightforward, he thinks.

“Oh,” Hansol says, sounding lost but nodding anyway. “Okay.”

 

-

 

He remembers being thirteen, and Jinseol turning nineteen, and one evening, she says,

“By the way, Ma, I’m still a lesbian.”

It makes Seungkwan raise an eyebrow, but Ma doesn’t break her gaze from the TV.

“You tell me regularly enough, Jinseol,” she says, without feeling.

“Yes, but you told me I could decide properly when I was an adult. So I’m letting you know that I’ve decided. Again.”

Ma sighs. Jinseol is going to university in a few months, starting a musical theatre course in Seoul. She hasn’t stopped talking about the city, the university, the friends she wanted to make, the gay clubs she wanted to visit. Ma had nearly had a meltdown when she’d first heard her, wailing about Jinseol ruining the family reputation, but at this point she’s been worn down into a semi-consistent state of resigned acceptance.

“Do as you wish, daughter. I can’t control you anymore.” She takes a sip of her wine, gaze still on the gameshow.

“Ma, I’m bisexual,” Sojeong says, before taking a handful of popcorn.

That catches Ma’s attention. “You’re what?”

“It means I like boys and girls,” Sojeong explains.

Ma splutters. “How can you like both? Shouldn’t you pick one or the other?”

“No, I just like both. I would only date one at a time though,” she says through her mouthful.

Ma withers into her seat, finishing the rest of her glass in one go, then standing up to get the rest of the bottle.

 

-

 

He remembers being fourteen, and learning that he is, in fact, gay. Very gay, if the way he can’t stop staring at the handsome boy three years above him is anything to go by. He’s never been that interested in girls, but boy, he sure is interested in Hansol’s older brother, Choi Seungcheol.

He and Hansol had never really addressed Seungkwan’s interests again after that conversation in his bedroom two years ago, but he knows Hansol is sharp when he wants to be, and Seungkwan knows he’s not that subtle about staring at his brother whenever he’s at Hansol’s house. They have some sort of unspoken mutual agreement to steer the conversation away from crushes whenever Mingyu brings up a girl he likes, which seems to be someone new every day. Mingyu isn’t completely useless, however; he does have mutual friends with Seungcheol, so Seungkwan works up the courage to ask him about their class schedules. He doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s gay, or that he’s gay for Seungcheol, but he’s also desperate to take action. He’s going crazy, coming into school every day and only getting to see his crush from afar, thinking about the possibilities of what could be.

He deliberately takes the long route to the toilet to go past Seungcheol’s locker and slip a note into it, secure in his belief that he’s in one of his classes, thanks to Mingyu. It has his phone number and the message _you’re cute, text me xxx_ written in his best handwriting.

He receives a text that evening when he’s halfway through painting his nails bright orange and trying to memorise a bunch of English verbs for their test the next day. He panics, blows on his nails, and taps at his shitty Samsung to open the message.

_Hi_

Not the most eloquent start from Seungcheol, but his heart races nonetheless. He’s actually doing it! He’s texting his crush, an older boy, anonymously, whilst wishing his nails would dry. A streak of adrenaline runs through him at the thought of it.

 _Hi cutie xxx_ he replies, thinking he might as well confirm that he’s reached the Anonymous Seungcheol Adorer who’d left him the note.

_Who is this?_

_I don’t think you know me, I’m not in your year…_

_Hayoung?_

His butterflies subside a little bit. Hayoung is a pretty girl from the year below Seungcheol. He wonders how Seungcheol knows her, and why he thinks it might be her texting.

_No, I’m younger. Sorry if that’s weird_

_A bit haha. Jihyo?_

Another pretty girl, this time from the year above Seungkwan. The signals are coming in loud and clear, but he might as well check.

_No, I’m actually a boy…._

_?? Why did u leave me that note if u r a boy??_

That hurts, makes the excitement turn sour in his chest. The butterflies subside, and now he remembers why this was always a bad, bad idea.

_Don’t worry about it_

_???_

He doesn’t reply to Seungcheol’s text, and no more messages come through after that, so he supposes the short conversation is over. He’s unreasonably frustrated, and angrily finishes the last two nails, but he fucks up the coating on his pinkie and immediately goes to take it off again. Then he wipes all of the nail polish off, because he would’ve had to before school anyway. He can’t go around being the gay kid at school. He’s already been called enough slurs in the corridor by the sporty boys who think the fact that he sings at the talent show every year is enough to consider him homosexual. They’re not exactly wrong about him, but he knows that if he ever confirmed the truth behind their teasing, it would only get a hundred times worse. God, why did he think he’d ever have a chance with Seungcheol?

It isn’t liking boys that he’s scared of. It’s everyone else, and what they can do with that information. He decides to block Seungcheol’s number and hope the other boy doesn’t look into his mysterious admirer any further.

 

-

 

As his siblings seem to have set a pattern of coming out to Ma at sixteen years old, what else can he do but follow in their footsteps?

“Ma, I’m gay,” he says one day over dinner.

“Yes, baby, I know,” his Ma says.

He blinks at her. “You do?”

Ma continues to chew on her noodles and look at him, a little dead in the eyes, so Sojeong takes over. “To be honest, Seungkwan, you couldn’t have made it more obvious.”

He’s careful never to talk about boys around his Ma, but truthfully, he can’t be surprised that his family know. The women’s clothing thing he has is probably a dead giveaway.

“You’ve been dressing in my clothes ever since you were tiny,” Jinseol confirms. University had been good to her; she’d graduated with honours, had her first girlfriend (and first breakup), and attended Seoul Pride all three years she’d lived in the city. “And stealing Ma’s makeup ever since you had fine motor skills. You’ve never talked about crushes on girls. You actively ask us to come shopping for clothes with you.” Jinseol points her chopsticks at him. “Also, you like girl groups in the gay way, not the straight boy way. You’re like a walking stereotype, dongsaeng.”

“If you’d turned out to be my only straight child, I would’ve felt cheated by God,” Ma remarks.

“So you’re not mad?” he asks. He supposes he should thank his sisters for paving the way on this one.

Ma shakes her head whilst swallowing her mouthful, defeated after six years of Jinseol’s aggressive show of loving women. “There’s no point, Kwannie. You’ll do what you want anyway.”

“It’s in the Boo blood,” Jinseol says proudly, and Sojeong sits back in her chair, trying to hide a smile.

 

-

 

Jinseol doesn’t have the money to move back to Seoul yet. She’s been working dead end jobs for the past year, trying to save up enough to get back to the lifestyle she’d loved so much during University. In the meantime, however, she’s twenty-three, and bored.

“Sojeongie….” Seungkwan hears her whining as soon as he arrives home from school. “Please? Just this once?”

Sojeong continues to read her book, ignoring her older sister.

“It’ll be fun! I promise!”

Sojeong still doesn’t give any indication she can hear Jinseol.

“What will be fun?” Seungkwan asks, dropping his bag in the doorway and pulling his school blazer off.

“There’s a gay club just opened in Jeju City. I want to go and check it out, but Sojeongie is a bore.”

“You know I’d hate it,” Sojeong says. “You and Seungkwan are the extroverts of this family.”

That makes Jinseol perk up. “That’s a fair point.” She turns to face him instead. “Seungkwannie, will you come clubbing with me?”

Seungkwan laughs, but Jinseol continues to look at him earnestly, and he stops laughing. “You’re serious?”

“Why not?”

He scoffs. “For one, I don’t want anyone at school to see me going in there. I’d be dead, Noona.”

“For another, he’s seventeen, Unnie.” Sojeong says from the sofa, paying attention to the conversation now. “He couldn’t get into a club.”

“Seventeen is a perfectly acceptable age to start clubbing,” Jinseol protests.

“Not according to the law,” Sojeong remarks, going back to her book. Seungkwan shakes his head and goes to unpack his bag. Important exams are coming up, and he feels like he’s spending every moment of his life studying and working towards them. Honestly, he could do with a break, and clubbing seems fun, but realistically he knows it’s too risky.

He doesn’t get ten minutes into his homework before there’s a delighted yell from the next room, and Jinseol comes bursting into his bedroom. “I’m a genius, Seungkwan!”

“Why this time, Noona?” he asks, not looking up from his work.

“I know a way you can get into the club _and_ have no one else recognise you. Two birds, one stone.”

He raises his head to look at her, and she smiles back at him, all smirk and mischief.

“Ma is away next weekend on a business trip, so we should go then. It gives us time to buy what we need, anyway.”

 

 

That’s how he finds himself leaving the house in one of his dressing up outfits for the first time in his life. He’d bought a wig, simple black hair that goes down to his armpits, the full fringe providing a little barrier between himself and anyone looking their way. They’d bought him his own dress, silvery and so shimmery that it makes him feel pretty whenever it catches the light. He’d done glittery silver eyeshadow to go with it, and they’d squeezed him into one of Jinseol’s bras too, stuffing it with socks to give him figure under the dress. He has to keep stopping himself from holding onto his fake boobs for comfort whenever he looks down at his dress, the high heels, the tights clinging to his legs. He’s sweating when they enter the club, but the bouncer takes one look at Sojeong’s ID and nods him inside.

“You need a name,” Jinseol had said while he’d been applying some of her pale pink lipstick. For the past few birthdays, she’s been buying him some of his own makeup, but her collection is still broader. “It’s a dead giveaway if I go around calling you Seungkwan. The other queers won’t care, but the bouncers might.”

“Don’t call me Sojeong. That’s weird. I’ll just pick something else girly.”

“You could pick something gender neutral if you want ambiguity,” Sojeong suggests, brushing out his wig for him. “Jisoo? Sooyoung?”

“I was thinking more of a proper drag name. Then at least he’d attract the right people,” Jinseol says, focusing on applying her mascara.

“Unnie!” Sojeong says sharply. “He’s a child! He won’t be attracting anyone!”

“I’m joking, it’s a joke!” Jinseol says through a laugh.

Seungkwan likes the idea of a drag name, though. He’s done as much research as he can into drag, once he’d realised that was what it was called—he’s not transgender, he just loves to dress up, and other people do it too, call themselves drag artists. He’d found a shitty subtitled season of an American show about drag queens and watched it too many times to count. He knows a drag name should represent him, should be something witty and memorable.

Sojeong is thinking along the same lines. “What about something connected to your interests? What are the things you love most, Kwan?”

“Dressing up. Girl groups. Singing. Boys, sometimes. You guys. Jeju.”

“Jeju, let’s go with that. What about something to represent your beautiful island?”

Perhaps that American TV show had influenced him more than he’d realised, because the name comes to him easily. “How about Tangerina?”

So Jinseol is having the time of her life shouting his new name across the bar, shortened down to a more manageable word as a compromise. “What do you want, Rina?” She doesn’t even wait for him to answer, cackling to herself and ordering him a coke.

“Noona! You can’t drag me out here and not give me anything good!” His palms are sweating, because the club is dark and loud and new, and while it’s not packed full of bodies there’s still too many people in here who could find him out at any moment, who could ask him questions he doesn’t want to answer. Thankfully, he hasn’t recognised anyone so far.

“Sojeong will kill me if you come back drunk, so you’re not drinking, and I’m only drinking light. And you can call me Unnie, now.” She winks at him as the handsome bartender passes over their drinks. He’s only wearing rainbow coloured underwear, which Seungkwan turns away from as soon as he realises it, though he kind of wants to get a proper peek.

The room is a majority male, he’d guess, but everyone seems to be friendly, dancing in mixed groups. He takes a sip from his coke as he looks around the room. There’s a group of people sat in the seats at the far end of the club, yelling to each other over the thumping music, and a crowd of dancing club-goers spread over the rest of the room.

The song changes, and it makes Jinseol grab onto his arm. It’s one of the girl group hit songs from this year, and considering his comprehensive knowledge of girl groups past and present, there’s no way he can play off not knowing the song.

“C’mon, let’s dance!”

Well, what did they come for, he thinks, if not to dance? He downs the last of his coke, trying to pretend it’s some sort of strong alcohol, and lets his sister guide him out to the dance floor.

By the sheer proximity of living with him, Jinseol also knows a lot of the songs, and even does the choreography to some of them with him. They make quite a dancing duo to Girls’ Generation’s Mr. Mr., so much so that the club goers around them make space for them, clapping and cheering. Somewhere around Sistar’s Touch My Body, he gets pushed up onto the low stage in front of the crowd, and with a surge of confidence that comes from the cheers, he gives them a show. Girls and guys alike in the crowd are cheering, and though he knows they can’t hear him, he sings along anyway, swept away by the thrill of it.

When the song is over he lets Jinseol help him down from the stage, his legs wobbly from the ache of wearing heels all evening, and dancing so enthusiastically in them. The crowd clap him and go back to enjoying the bass-filled boy group song that’s just come on.

“You didn’t tell me you would be the life of the party tonight, baby brother!”

“It wasn’t in the plan!” he shouts back, but he can’t stop himself from smiling wide, on a high from the sudden attention. “And it’s baby sister now,” he corrects cheekily.

Jinseol laughs at him. “Let’s go get another drink, okay?” she says, dabbing his sweat from his hairline. “Your makeup will start running soon.”

As she’s ordering them both some water, a tall, broad man approaches the two of them, but speaks with a voice so soft he’s hard to hear over the music.

“Do you mind coming in the back with me?” he repeats, looking between them with an open expression. “It’ll only take a minute.”

Jinseol looks at Seungkwan, but he doesn’t have a clue what this is about either, suddenly worried this man might have a problem with him using the club stage without permission. She gives Seungkwan his water and nods at the man, putting a hand on his back protectively as they follow him through a door and into a sparse backroom. Inside is a small dresser and a two-person sofa and not a whole lot of space for anything else, cramped and clearly rarely used. The man seems even taller in the tight room, with the sounds of the club muted as the door shuts behind them. He gestures for them to take a seat on the sofa as he sits himself on the rickety chair by the dresser, extending a hand out to shake.

“Sorry about that. I’m Hyunwoo, I own this club.” He shakes Jinseol’s hand too before turning to Seungkwan. “I couldn’t help but notice your performance out there.”

He can feel his palms sweating again. “I’m so sorry about that! I shouldn’t have gone up there without your permission. I apologise, sir.” He gives a little bow from his seat and fiddles with his fingers nervously, but Hyunwoo shakes his head quickly.

“Oh no, please don’t be worried! I was really impressed. You were very good up there, a natural performer. What’s your name?”

Seungkwan flounders, thrown off by the compliment. “I, uuhh…” He’s not sure what policy he should follow here. They’d chosen Tangerina for the night, but his ID says Sojeong, though neither of those are his real name.

Jinseol intervenes, thankfully. “His name is Seungkwan, but for tonight he’s Tangerina.” She says it with such pride, this silly name he’d come up with on a whim, and he fully expects Hyunwoo to laugh. He doesn’t, though—instead he smiles a soft eye smile and nods approvingly. “So you’re a drag queen?”

“Uh, not professionally or anything, I just enjoy doing it…”

“Was that your first time doing something like that?”

“In public? Yeah.”

Hyunwoo sits back, studying him. “Would you like to do it some more?”

Seungkwan stares right back, uncomprehending. “More?”

“I’ve been trying to find more performers to host events here. We have two queens and a handful of singers…” he shrugs. “You’re the most natural I’ve seen. I’d love to pay you to come here every once in a while, do some routines. The crowd loved you. Here.” He picks out a piece of scrap paper out from the litter on the dresser, and pulls a pen out of his pocket to scribble something down. “There’s my contact details. You can think about it. Take your time. But please consider it.”

Seungkwan doesn’t know how to react, taking the piece of paper between two manicured nails and staring at it. “Thank you?” he manages, and Hyunwoo smiles.

“No, thank you, Tangerina.” Hyunwoo calling him by that name gives him a little thrill, making him smile as he tucks the paper into his glittery shoulder bag. They say polite goodbyes and Hyunwoo sees them out, back through into the club.

They stay and dance a little longer, but Seungkwan can’t focus, too buzzed on the offer he’d been given, so Jinseol decides to take him back home. They’re walking along the street together, leaning on each other for relief from the high heels, and Jinseol says,

“You know you can’t take the offer, right?”

He blinks and turns to look at her. “What?”

He hadn’t been expecting that from Jinseol, who’d always been so vocal about he and Sojeong doing whatever the hell they’d wanted; she never says _you can’t._ Especially not to him.

“Not now at least, Kwan. You’re still a minor. You shouldn’t even have been there in the first place. I’m glad you had a good time, but you can’t be doing this regularly. It could get you and Hyunwoo both into trouble. And it’s not safe for you.”

He mulls that over, pulling her closer into him and sighing. She makes a good point. Perhaps he’d gotten carried away in there. “I really like the idea, though. It would be like entering the talent show but, like, a million times more exciting, because I get to be my full self for once.”

Jinseol tightens her grip on him and gives a kiss to his cheek. “I know, babe. Keep on with the talent show, and keep on singing. Think about it carefully, and if you still want to do it, call him in a year and a half, when you turn nineteen. When you’re an adult, no one can stop you from doing what you want.”

Seungkwan nods, resting his head against hers as they walk up the dim street to home.

 

-

 

He can’t believe he’s only just having his first sleepover at eighteen years old, but he and Hansol had agreed on a weekend full of studying in the run up to their finals, and he was sleeping over at Seungkwan’s for the convenience of it. Seungkwan wonders when they’d become such nerds.

He’s been thinking about telling Hansol for a while. Hansol is his closest friend, and the only person outside of his immediate family who knows about the drag thing, even if they never talk about it. He’s also been dying to talk to someone other than Jinseol and Sojeong about the offer he’d received from Hyunwoo nearly a year ago, because the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it. He and Hansol have some sort of invisible barrier between them when it comes to serious conversations like that, but as they’re settling down to sleep in the early hours of the morning, the dark seems like an opening, like a silence he should shatter with his confession.

“Hansol?”

“Yeah?” They’re sharing Seungkwan’s blanket and a floor mattress, so he prepares to feel Hansol get uncomfortable.

“You were right, all those years ago. I am gay.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Oh. Okay.”

Seungkwan is still, trying to gauge his expression in the dark. “Is that okay? Does it make you uncomfortable?”

“Do you like me in a gay way?” Hansol asks.

“No! Of course not! You’re my best friend.”

“Then it’s fine. I don’t like you like that either.”

“Oh.” Well, this is going better than expected. “Is it okay if I cuddle you then?”

Hansol shrugs. “If you want.”

They lie there for a while in silence, Seungkwan latched onto Hansol’s side. The way he’d reacted makes him wonder, and Hansol is right here, open and honest. He might as well ask.

“Do you like boys too?”

Hansol is silent for a minute. “I don’t really like anyone.”

“Yeah, but I mean in general.”

“I don’t really like anyone in general.”

Seungkwan shifts under the blanket, trying to get a look at his face in the dark. “What do you mean?”

Hansol shrugs again, but Seungkwan can tell he’s a little tense. “I don’t want to have sex or anything. I don’t think I’ve ever really liked anyone like that.”

“Really?” That seems unfathomable, to him. He has a list of people he would fuck, if he could. “What about dating?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know. It’s hard to tell what I want most of the time.” Hansol’s voice is getting quieter as he speaks. Seungkwan gets the impression this isn’t something he’s ever said out loud before.

“That’s okay. You’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out.”

Hansol sighs. “It doesn’t feel like it, with the way my parents keep asking about dating.” He rolls over to face Seungkwan. “How long have you known?”

“That I was gay? My family have known since I started wearing women’s clothes at about five years old. I only clicked when I was like, thirteen or fourteen. I had a crush on your older brother, actually.”

“You had a crush on Seungcheol?” That makes Hansol visibly untense, and Seungkwan can hear the smile in his voice. “No way!”

“Yeah! And if you ever tell him, I’ll throttle you!” Seungkwan says pleasantly.

Hansol makes a zipping motion over his mouth, but Seungkwan can see his teeth glinting in the dark as he laughs to himself, ecstatic over the revelation. After a moment, he settles down, and speaks again. “How have you always been so sure about what you want? You make it look easy.”

Seungkwan traces circles onto the blanket with his fingertip, mulling the question over. “I suppose I’ve always ignored what people expected of me. I’ve tried not to compromise on what I really want.”

Hansol puts his hand over Seungkwan’s, where it’s laid on his chest. “That sounds nice. I’m trying my best to do the same, but I don’t know how.”

“You’ll get there. Focus on yourself.” Seungkwan intertwines their fingers. “I wanted to tell you something, actually. I went to the gay club in Jeju city nearly a year ago, in full drag. It was really fun, and the owner asked me to come back and perform there.”

Hansol looks over at him. “You’ve been performing?”

“I’m too young to do it now. But I’m going to take him up on the offer in the new year, when I become an adult. I really want to do it.”

“Wow. That’s so cool, Seungkwan.”

He lifts his head from the pillow to look him in the eye. “You think I should do it?”

“Of course! You’d love it, wouldn’t you?”

Seungkwan smiles to himself in the dark and slots his chin back into Hansol’s shoulder. “Yeah, I would. Do you want to come and watch me sometime?”

He can feel Hansol smiling too, the edges of his cheeks stretching out to brush the tip of Seungkwan’s nose. “Of course I will. Let me know when, and I’ll be there.”

 

-

 

On the second of January he calls Hyunwoo, who is more than surprised to hear from him. Seungkwan is just glad he’s kept the same number.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Seungkwan? It’s been a little while!”

“I’m sorry, Hyung, I needed to finish my studies before I considered your offer.” A small lie, he isn’t quite finished with school yet, but he’s desperate to get back onto the stage. “I’m going to university in the autumn, but until then I’m free to perform at your club, if your offer is still open.”

“Seungkwannie,” Hyunwoo says. “Nothing would make me happier.”

 

 

She arrives at the club with the familiar bubble of nervousness building in her. There’s a sign on the club door advertising events for the week—she’s been slotted in for the Saturday night, as Ma is increasingly spending weekends in Busan for work, and Sojeong had made her promise she would focus on school during the weekdays. A tingle goes up her spine as she sees her name there: _Introducing Tangerina, a young new talent on the Korean drag scene!_

Hyunwoo introduces her to the crowd in a similar way, and she gets some cheers as she comes up onto the stage, which make her stomach jump with nerves. The club isn’t sparse, but it isn’t full either, so she’s grateful that the small crowd of people are paying attention to her, at least.

She’d thought long and hard about what her first song should be. She has a half an hour slot to perform, and has seven songs picked out to fill that time, having spent a lot of her time deciding on the order of songs. She’d eventually settled on Why So Lonely by the Wonder Girls as an opening number, for a list of reasons. It’s not the most club-like song she could’ve picked, but upbeat enough to get people excited, and with a sexy enough dance to show off what she can do. The Wonder Girls are also her favourite group, so she knows every word to that song, can sing every note perfectly, has been singing it daily since its release last year. Hopefully it’ll be her good luck charm for tonight.

The microphone feels unfamiliar and heavy in her hand, nothing like the hairbrush she’d been practicing with. She has a mic pack strapped to the booty shorts she’s wearing tonight, with a red strappy shirt and blonde wig styled curls that bounce just above her shoulders. The hot reds of her makeup make her feel confident as the music starts, and she steps up onto the stage, greeting the crowd with a smile. The nerves disappear as she starts singing the opening line, the audience members giving her an encouraging cheer when she begins to dance. The choreography really kicks in around the chorus, and the whooping increases as she does the body wave, and she gives the girl at the front a wink when she yells out _Tangerina!_ There’s some floorwork in the second verse that goes down well too, and she spots a few thousand won worth of notes on the floor around her while she’s down there, making her smile and sing harder. The rap part is also received well, and she finishes with a flourish. The crowd has grown by the end, those who were dancing on the far side of the club migrated over, and the group over at the tables clapping for her too. She feels incredible, standing on stage in front of people who like what she’s doing, and thinks that perhaps she’s been waiting for this longer than a year and a half. Like maybe her life has been leading up to this, or something.

The rest of the show goes just as well. Jinseol and even Sojeong have come out to support her at her debut show, Hansol standing a little nervously between them. They’d been the ones to review her routine in minute detail, so they know exactly where to clap and cheer and sing, driving the energy of the other viewers. She finishes with Girl’s Generation’s Gee, the most fun and well-known song on the set, and dances so hard that she nearly stumbles in her heels. She’s sweaty and exhausted but so very pleased with the performance, and blows a kiss to the crowd as she leaves through the backstage door. She takes a seat in the chair, wiping at her sweat as she listens to the excited voices die down outside, and thinks, _I just did that._

Hyunwoo, Hansol and her sisters come through shortly after with handfuls of cash, just as Rina has managed to catch her breath. Jinseol squeals and comes over to lift her up into a hug.

“You killed it out there! I knew you would!”

“You were amazing!” Hansol agrees, as Sojeong also comes in for a hug.

“Yes, they’re quite right. Thank you for performing tonight, Rina.” Hyunwoo also gives her a hug, hands over the cash from the stage, then digs around for his own wallet. “I hope you’ll come back again when you can. Here, the pay I promised you.”

“Oh! It’s quite alright, Oppa, the crowd were really generous!” She can’t quite believe the number of notes scattered across the rickety dresser.

“This is what I promised you, so this is what I’ll pay you. Treat yourself to something nice, okay?”

Rina beams, and bows in thanks.

 

-

 

He immerses himself in drag completely that summer, when he’s finally finished school. If his grade results are good, he’ll be headed to Seoul in September to study business, and he’d rather not think about that too much, to be honest. So he buys new wigs, new dresses, more makeup, practises new songs every week. At this point, it’s impossible to hide it from Ma, especially when Hyunwoo wants to start putting up posters around the city with Tangerina on them. Fuck it, he decides. He’s tired of hiding, and he’s finished school anyway. What’s he got to lose?

Ma takes it surprisingly well. “What do you mean, performing?”

“There’s a club in the city called the Queer Rite. I’ve been going there a few times this year, you know, dressed up. The owner saw me dancing and singing and offered me payment to do it properly, on the stage.”

She narrows her eyes at him and sits forwards. “Dancing?” she asks sharply. “What sort of dancing?”

He splutters at her insinuation. “Not that sort, Ma! It’s a gay club, not a strip club!”

She leans back in her chair and studies him. “You’re just dancing and singing?”

“Yeah. Girl group songs, mostly.”

“That’s how you’ve been paying for all the new clothes.”

“Yeah.” He knows he shouldn’t have kept it from her for this long, but he also knows how much she struggles to come to terms with it all.

“Then that’s okay, Seungkwannie.” She turns on the TV like that’s the end of the conversation.

“It’s okay?” he says, after the moment of silence that follows.

“Yes, dear. You’ve always loved to sing. I’m glad you’ve found a way to do it.” She flicks through the channels. “Do you have a crowd? Do people like you?”

He nods, thinking about his growing follower count on Instagram, about the slowly increasing crowds at the Queer Rite, about the videos of Tangerina that have started to pop up on YouTube. “Yeah. They call me Tangerina. I’m becoming kind of known in the Jeju gay community, Ma. Hyunwoo wants to put up posters.”

“You’ll still focus on University, yes?” she says, sharp again.

“Of course.”

“Then this is no bad thing. Maybe I should come and see you sometime.”

And that’s that.

Once the posters go up, he knows people start talking. He gets some messages from past classmates, and Hansol tells him he’s received a lot of questions too. Even Mingyu is distant from him for a little while—weirded out, probably. He comes around by September, which Seungkwan is glad for. He doesn’t want to leave Jeju without saying a proper goodbye to him.

“So you do it for fun?” Mingyu asks, frowning.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan replies. Explaining it doesn’t make him nervous anymore. He’s embraced that some people won’t get it, and that’s fine, because he has people around him who do. Who knew graduating would be so freeing?

“That means you’re gay, right?” Mingyu says, chewing slowly on his burger.

Hansol snorts and slurps at his milkshake. Seungkwan sighs. “No, Mingyu, my life choices don’t determine my sexuality. The fact that I like boys does.”

Mingyu looks more confused by the second. “It’s not because you’re gay?”

Seungkwan is painfully reminded why he hadn’t come out to anyone before this. Mingyu is probably his closest friend, aside from Hansol, but that doesn’t mean much when he’s faced with something new and foreign he has to try and understand for Seungkwan’s sake. “No, I do it because I want to do it.”

Mingyu takes another bite. “Did you ever like us?” He gestures to himself and Hansol. “You know, like that?”

Seungkwan stares at Mingyu, who is speaking through a mouthful food, the meat practically falling out of his mouth as he looks at Seungkwan expectantly.  “Funnily enough, no, liking boys doesn’t mean I like all boys I’ve ever interacted with. You think an awful lot of yourself don’t you?”

Mingyu frowns deeper, as if offended. “I was just asking…”

“Maybe you should start thinking before you ask, Hyung. Do you have any other questions?”

Mingyu shrugs, swallowing his mouthful. “Just wanted to know. It’s not like you’d ever mentioned anything before I saw your face on a poster for a gay club.”

Seungkwan can hear in his voice he’s mostly just hurt, and feels a little bad. He’s probably trying his best. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t feel safe telling anyone while we were in school, you know? Hansol found out on accident, and I haven’t told anyone else outside of my family. It wasn’t because of you, it was about me, and what I felt was best, because of how everyone else would’ve reacted. You get that, right? I should’ve told you when the posters were being issued, though. I’m sorry if you were upset.”

Mingyu nods, though Seungkwan isn’t sure if he really understands. He seems forgiving anyway. “Can I see you perform?”

He’s a little taken aback, but it’s not an unpleasant suggestion. “Yeah, sure. If you want to. I have my last show this Saturday, before flying out to Seoul on Wednesday.”

“Fuck, Uni came around fast,” Hansol remarks.

“What is it you’re doing again?” Mingyu asks.

“Literature in Busan. You?”

“Neuroscience at Chonbuk National.”

“Smart bastard,” Seungkwan says.

“I’m surprised you’re doing Business, to be honest,” Mingyu says to Seungkwan.

Seungkwan shrugs, not eager to address the immediate future. The gay questions are far more  preferable. “Didn’t know what else to do. You only get into the performing arts schools if you’ve been trained since the womb, and everyone told me business was a good course for general life, or something. I’m shitting myself over it, to be honest.”

“You’ll be in Seoul, though! There’s got to be a good drag scene there, right?” Hansol points out.

“Yeah, that’s the only thing I’m excited about. You guys will have to come and visit me sometime.”

“I’ll see how good your show is, first,” Mingyu says through a mouthful of food, and Seungkwan sticks out his tongue at him.

 

 

The show goes amazingly. It’s the last weekend before schools go back, so she supposes the club must be full of students making the most of it, because it’s more packed today than she’s ever seen it. She’s done shows here so often that she’s used to the routine by now, but the nerves never quite leave her, even though mistakes are rare and easy to recover from when your crowd is generous and drunk.

She throws out a surprise at the end of the set, because what the hell, she won’t be back in this club until next summer anyway. If it turns out to be a terrible idea, no one will have to see her for the next ten months.

“For the last song of my last show, everyone,” she says, allowing a pause for the appropriately sad reaction from the crowd. “I know, I know, but hey, this will be fun! I’m hoping to take a request from the crowd. Any song you like. Might as well show off my K-pop knowledge.” Songs are immediately shouted out by members of the crowd.

“Likey!”

“Love Me Right!”

“Hyuna!”

“Hyuna what?” she responds. She’s done Likey before, and while she’s happy to take boy group requests, she’s never done a Hyuna song before.

“Bubble Pop!”

“Red!”

“Babe!”

“Do Red!”

He concedes at the first display of a majority decision. “Okay, I’ll do Red! Do we have that song?” She looks over to Hyunwoo, who’s studying a monitor. A moment later, he gives her a thumbs up. “Alright! Completely unrehearsed, everyone, let’s see how this goes.” Hopefully Mingyu won’t completely disown her after this.

The song starts, and the rhythm is easy to follow at first. It isn’t something she’d choose to show off her vocals, but it is fun to sing, and even more fun to dance. Unsurprisingly, the powerful chorus choreography gets a good response, and while her voice may not suit the song, her ass certainly suits these moves.

She finishes the song with an uproarious response, and bows to the crowd respectfully in thanks. She’s going to miss this place.

 

-

 

One thing he’d promised himself upon applying for Chung-Ang University in Seoul was that if nothing else, he was going to be himself. He didn’t want to revert back to his high school mindset, at any cost. He wasn’t about to start wearing drag to his classes—that’s too much hassle anyway—but he did manage to convince himself to check out the LGBT+ society in the week before classes begin. Make some friends, he thinks to himself, find somewhere you can be comfortable. He goes as Seungkwan, wanting to scope out the scene before bringing out Tangerina, but his freshly dyed blonde hair gives him the boost of confidence he needs to head there alone.

To his surprise, he recognises one of his new flatmates in the meeting.

“Jeonghan?”

The other blonde turns, wide-eyed. “Seungkwannie! It’s nice to see you here!”

“Oh, you too Hyung! You don’t know how relieved I am!” He clings onto Jeonghan’s arm hoping he won’t mind the affection, even though they’d only met for the first time two days ago. Jeonghan seems friendly—he’s one of the closest to Seungkwan’s age in their flat of six, and though he hasn’t spoken to Hyungwon or Kihyun yet, he knows Jeonghan had made a point of greeting each of them personally. It had made him instantly likeable, and seeing him here makes him infinitely more trustworthy, to Seungkwan. Maybe he can come out to his flatmates after all, with Jeonghan for support.

The room they’re meeting in is filling up fast; he would expect to see this many people in the Queer Rite on a quiet night, and this is just the amount of queer students who could make it to this meeting tonight. He’d never thought of Jeju as a small place until coming to Seoul.

The leader is a smiley man who seems nervous to speak in front of everyone, but very excited about the turnout.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Lee Seokmin, I’m the chairman of this society!” He receives a warm round of applause. “I would spend time welcoming you, but what I really want is for us to build a community together. I thought a good way to get to know people at the beginning of the year would be a quiz night! You’re in a team with the people you’re on a table with, so please introduce yourselves, and we’ll start in a few minutes. Feel free to join us afterwards for social drinking at the Pink Dive, too.”

The people on his table seem nice enough. There’s Hyojin and Heeyeon, a pair of bubbly lesbians, and Joshua and Jihoon, a bi boy and trans boy respectively. Jeonghan introduces himself as ‘like, super gay’, and when Seungkwan says that he does drag, he gets a resounding noise of impressed appreciation from the table.

“Do you do it professionally?” Seokmin, who’d been circling the tables saying hello to everyone, asks him.

“I did in Jeju. I’d love to find somewhere that would let me perform here. I’m a first year, so I haven’t had a chance to look around the city yet.”

“You should ask around at the Pink Dive!” Joshua says. “They have some amazing regular queens. They’re super friendly there, I know the club owner. If you’re coming by later, I can introduce you?”

“That would be amazing!” It seems like opportunities keep falling into his hands, and he’d be a fool not to grab onto them and hold fast.

His team come second in the quiz by one point, because they didn’t know what the P in the LGBT acronym stands for, and the other table did. They lose with grace, even as Seokmin hands the other team their prize of Lush gift cards, and Seungkwan tries to hide his brief mourning period before they’re headed out to the club together. It’s his first time wearing regular day-to-day male clothes into a club, and he feels grossly underdressed. It isn’t enough of a distraction to take away from his awe as he steps in the club, the positive atmosphere immediately washing over him upon entering the club.

The place is bigger than the Queer Rite—not as big as he’d expected for Seoul, but still a noticeable size up from what he’s used to—which accommodates for how packed it is, teeming with all sorts of people on a lively Friday night. There’s a floor-to-ceiling pole at the far end of the room that no one is currently occupying, thankfully, and a bar that spans the whole back wall of the room. Up on the stage that spans nearly ten feet—new territory to him—there’s a queen currently performing, and her dancing is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen. Once they find a spot in the crowd to see the performance properly, Seungkwan can’t look away. She’s clearly a trained dancer, if the way she can pop her body to hit every beat is any indication—the song is a more typically American-style drag choice, all explosive drops and deep bass, and she works it well, the crowd cheering for every spin and drop she pulls off. The green bodycon dress and matching green wig makes her look like some sort of snake, and she moves smoothly enough for it. Seungkwan wonders if it was intentional, to make her look even more boneless, to look as smooth as the scales she sports.

The song ends, and she gives the crowd a wink, stepping off stage as another queen steps on. This one is in a leopard print crop top and stylish matching trousers, long blonde hair down to her flat belly. Seungkwan is a little jealous that she can pull off a look like that.

“Thank you, Diva Saur, for such an amazing performance! You guys liked that right?”

The crowd screams their appreciation. The queen on stage smiles, and her toothy grin looks familiar, though he can’t pinpoint exactly where he might know her from.

“The last performance of the night will be from another regular queen here, a very dear friend of mine. Our drag family may be small, but we are feisty, and this particular girl can kick some ass if needs be. Everyone please give a warm welcome to our final act, Princess Tiana.”

A slim queen emerges up the stage steps to the sound of her applause, and a sensual Chinese pop song starts blasting over the sound system. The performance starts off slower, more intimate, her simple black jumpsuit and brown hair almost making her melt into the black stage floor as she does some slow, interpretive moves, moving gently to the front of the crowd. The song grows more upbeat, and she moves further back again, teasing them with some body rolls and sharp glances. Right as the drop lands, she does a backflip, landing perfectly in heels and all, stretching her body to accentuate the beat. The audience roar in appreciation as Seungkwan watches in his own stunned awe, and he thinks he might ask Joshua not to introduce him to the owner after all—how the hell is he supposed to match these queens, who all clearly have training in dance, who treat their work as a form of art? He just shakes his ass to Hyuna, for fucks sake.

Fate is against him on that one, it seems, as at that moment he hears Joshua calling for someone from across the room.

“Hoshi! Hey!”

The realisation slams into Seungkwan as he whips around and spots the host queen from before coming towards them. He’d recognised her up on the stage because he’s seen videos of her online hundreds of times—she’s one of the most well-known queens in Seoul, something of a celebrity on the drag scene. Diva Saur he has some knowledge of too—they’ve done performances together before.

Fuck. He’s about to be introduced to drag royalty dressed in a fucking button-down shirt.

“Shua!” Hoshi has made it to them, embracing Joshua in a friendly hug and half-shouting to be heard over the music.

“Hi! Has your night been going well?”

“Take a look around you babe, we’re thriving!” Hoshi gestures to the packed crowd with a smile.

“It’s just as you deserve! I want to introduce you to my new first-year friend. This is Seungkwan, he’s looking for drag work in Seoul.”

“Hi!” Seungkwan says, breathless, and thrusts out a hand for her to shake.

“Hey babe!” Hoshi says, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “How long have you been doing drag?”

“Only my whole life!” he replies, truthfully. “In clubs, though, since the beginning of the year.”

“What’s your name?”

He trips over his tongue to stop himself from saying his birth name, quickly realising what she means. “I go by Tangerina.”

Amazingly, he sees recognition in Hoshi’s face. “The queen of Jeju?”

“You know me?” Seungkwan chokes out.

“I know many things, baby, I like to keep an eye on the scene. I’ve seen a couple of videos of you, I think.”

“Woah…” he doesn’t know what to say to that, and Joshua laughs at him. Hoshi’s smile grows, something feral to match her animal-print outfit, and she quickly looks him up and down.

“If you want to audition, come by tomorrow night. You can take the first five minutes of my set, show us how you handle a crowd. Sound good?”

“Of course!” That sounds more than good. That sounds perfect.

“Okay. See you then, Tangerina.” Hoshi gives him a wink, and Joshua a friendly wave, before disappearing back into the crowd.

 

 

He spends most of Saturday picking out an outfit, though he knows he really should be preparing for the classes starting on Monday. He’d tried that for a few minutes, reading over the preparatory notes, but he thought he might die of boredom before he could get to the bottom of the first page, so he promptly went back to organising his lipstick collection by shade and brand. He has quite a growing collection of wigs and dresses now; coming out publicly over the summer had allowed him to start buying women’s clothes in shops, usually with Jinseol’s help. He’s hoping Seoul will give him more shopping opportunities—he wants to try more adventurous outfits, needs to scout for more makeup for bigger and better looks.

He eventually decides on the silver shiny dress he’d worn the first time in the Queer Rite with Jinseol, a good luck charm of sorts. His body has filled out since then, but with spanx and a pair of proper silicone boobs he looks nice and shapely underneath the dress, his butt looking great. He picks out a silver wig that he’d bought for its Lady Gaga vibes, and decides, what the hell, if he’s going for the disco ball look he might as well go all out, and draws big arches of glittery eyeshadow on his eyelids, sticking a few silver gems along his cheekbone to accentuate it. He’s certainly glad he doesn’t have to share a room with some pour soul stuck through his dressing up process, even if he is nervous to leave the flat, knowing the other guys will probably see him as he leaves.

There’s a knock at his door. “Ready to go, Seungkwannie?” It’s Jeonghan, who’d offered to accompany him to the club tonight. When his looks are more extravagant, people in the streets tend to stop and stare at him, trying to figure him out. Most days, it makes him smile, because he knows what they don’t; it can also make him feel powerful, like he deserves the attention, like his art is worth seeing. Some days, like when he’s working up to an audition in front of a famous drag queen, it makes him nervous and uncomfortable. He’s glad Jeonghan is coming with him. They’re both new to the city, but hopefully between them they’ll be able to remember the way there from yesterday.

“Yeah!” he calls back, finishing strapping on his heels.

As they walk through the flat they pass the kitchen, where two of their flatmates are sitting around the table talking over their meals.

“You look nice, Oppa,” Rina says, slipping into the higher voice she tends to do once she’s in Tangerina’s shoes.

“Thank you! You look amazing, though,” Jeonghan replies, pulling on his denim jacket as they head to the door.

“Thanks!” she replies, pleased. She hadn’t complimented Jeonghan with the intent to get a compliment back, but it’s nice to hear one anyway.

“Jeonghan! Where’s our invite?” Kihyun calls playfully, just before they reach the front door.

“And our introduction!” Changkyun joins in, their conversation interrupted by new curiosity. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!”

Rina represses a laugh. They don’t recognise her, and Jeonghan clearly hasn’t come out to them either.

“It’s not like that, Changkyunnie, we’re just friends!” Jeonghan calls back, pulling open the door, clearly eager to leave this conversation as soon as possible.

“Even more reason to introduce us, then! Are you single, babe?” Kihyun shouts, Rina pursing her lips to stop herself from sniggering as Jeonghan holds the door open for her.

“Goodbye, Hyung!” Jeonghan says, shutting the door behind them and joining Rina at the elevator doors.

“You only realise how bad some guys act when you become a woman,” Rina remarks. She knows Kihyun’s jab was mostly teasing, and the attention from a boy is nice, makes her feel wanted. She’s not sure how she’d feel to have that sort of thing directed at her all the time, though.

“Yeah, straight boys are something else,” Jeonghan agrees.

“Is that why you haven’t come out?” she asks.

Jeonghan eyes her as they step into the lift and press the ground floor button. “I was waiting to see if you would, to be honest.”

“But I was waiting to see if you would, first!” she laughs.

He smiles and shrugs. “I wasn’t planning on it. I’d rather be safe than risk their reaction. Or at least wait a little while and see what they’re like, you know? But then I found you, and I thought about it some more. With two of us we have solidarity. But then again, with two of us maybe we’re more of a threat. Best case scenario, they’ll be asking if we’re together all year, and that’s annoying enough.”

“More of a threat?” Rina laughs. “I didn’t know anyone could consider me threatening”

Jeonghan laughs, and the elevator halts, the doors sliding open. They walk through the lobby and out of the building, into the cool Autumn air. “You know what I mean. That’s how some people think of it. They seem like nice guys, though. I don’t want to make things weird if they’re uncomfortable with it.”

“If they’re uncomfortable with it, they’re not that nice. It’s not like we’re a disease.”

“But their opinion is going to affect us too, not only them. I just want to get through University, you know? I only just got away from all that shit at home. It’s not worth coming out if it makes your life more difficult than staying closeted is.”

Rina links her arm with Jeonghan’s. “I suppose I’m the opposite. I’ve not been out for a long time at home, though my family have known for ages. It’s not been smooth, but it’s not like anyone’s been that aggressive towards me either. I wanted to come to Seoul and be out for real, you know? Not hide for years like I did on Jeju.”

Jeonghan hums in understanding. “I like the sentiment. But you need to remember your safety before anything, Kwannie. Especially since you do this. I’m telling you now, not many straight people are going to understand drag.”

“I know. That’s why I wanted to see whether you were coming out to them first. I’ll keep it low-key with you, if that’s what you think is best. You might need to come up with a lie about me for our flatmates, though, now that they’ve seen Rina.” She nudges Jeonghan gently. “You should call me that when I’m in drag, by the way. I know Tangerina is a mouthful.”

“Sorry, yes. Rina. I’ll do that.”

Thankfully it’s a short walk to the club, as the University and its accommodation is very central to the city. When they enter it’s not quite as packed as it had been yesterday, but it is earlier on in the evening, and seems to be filling up quickly as the time for the drag performance slot grows closer. They find Jihoon, Joshua and Seokmin already sitting in a booth, waiting to support her performance. They look up as the two of them make their approach, and Seokmin does a double take when he sees Rina.

“Hello, everyone. I’d like to introduce you to my dear friend Rina who, hilariously, just got mistaken for my girlfriend.”

She laughs as Jihoon bows to her in a mock welcome.

“Oh, you look amazing tonight, Rina!” Seokmin says, and she smiles, pleased.

“Thank you!”

“Hoshi told me to bring you through to the back when you arrive,” Joshua says. “You ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, and follows Joshua into the crowd and through a staff door, down a corridor and finally into a wide dressing room. It’s far bigger than Hyunwoo’s shower cubicle of a backroom, plenty big enough for the four queens sat in there. She recognises Hoshi and the other two queens from last night, Diva Saur and Princess Tiana, thanks to their distinctive styles. The fourth girl turns in her chair to look at them as they come through the door. She’s pretty, her smoky makeup done to accentuate high cheekbones and big eyes. She’s not wearing a whole lot, though, a black bra and full briefs covered in a mesh dress.

“Hello there, babe!” Hoshi greets. “You clean up well! Love the ‘tin foil at a rave’ look you’re going for.”

“Thanks, Unnie! Your furry on holiday looks always take the spotlight, though.” Rina gives her a wink. Hoshi’s smile grows, and she breathes a small sigh of relief that Hoshi took the banter well, though she must be called a furry every day of her drag life. Maybe it’s the truth. She’s in a zebra print leotard today, low cut, some impressive boob shading going on in the dip. Her nails and eyelids are covered in tiny zebra print patterns, and streaks of white in her long black hair hammering the look home.

“You must be Tangerina,” Diva Saur says, standing to give Rina a welcoming hug. “I’m excited to see what you can do!” She’s in a cute pink dress today, frilly around the bottom, with a peach hair in space buns.

“I’m so excited to be on stage again,” Rina replies. “I hope you’ll enjoy it, though I can’t dance anything like you can. Your performances yesterday were incredible!”

“Each performer is different, don’t worry too much!” Tiana says encouragingly. “We’ll enjoy a new performance regardless. It’s been just the four of us here for a while now.”

“Yes, fresh blood and all that,” Hoshi agrees. “This is your first time meeting these girls, right? This is Diva Saur, Princess Tiana, and July.”

The other queen, July, gives her a quiet, polite greeting. She seems a little shyer than the rest, which is rather contradictory to her outfit, Rina thinks.

“I’m Tangerina, but you can call me Rina,” she replies. “It’s so good to meet you!”

“How old are you, Rina?” Diva asks.

“Nineteen. You?”

“Another Unnie for you, Diva!” Hoshi says, teasing. Diva is younger than her?

“Will I ever find another same-aged drag friend?” Diva says, flopping back into her chair dramatically.

Rina manages to get everyone’s ages and permission to use honourifics, even though July has barely said two words to her. They all seem friendly, though, and proceed to ease her nerves with friendly banter as Tiana finishes her makeup and Rina waits for performance time arrive. Joshua is long gone, and she wonders if the boys are still sat out there anticipating her performance, or if they’re having fun on the dance floor without her. She hopes she can live up to their expectations, draw their attention well. Be the queen she wants to be.

“Do you lip sync, or do you need a mic?” Hoshi asks.

“Oh, I sing!” Rina says, a little surprised by the question.

“Okay, I’ll get you strapped up to a mic, then. Tiana and July prefer to lip sync, because of their performance styles. Hand mic or head mic?”

“I’m used to using a hand mic.” The fact that Hoshi has head mics is something to keep in mind, though. They’re more practical for harder choreography.

“No problem.” She opens a box and pulls out a bunch of wires, starts untangling them and putting batteries in the mic pack. “Do you have a song ready for us to line up?”

“Yes!” This is an audition, so the song choice is important. After careful thought, she’d chosen a song by recently debuted girl group. The song is upbeat, the vocals powerful, and the dance high energy; a perfect piece to show off what she can do. “Playing With Fire, please.”

“Oh, good choice!” Diva calls her approval. Rina helps Hoshi strap the mic pack to her, and Hoshi nods her thanks before strapping on her own head mic.

“Quick rundown of the rules here—we have a tip box in front of the stage. July’s dance style doesn’t lend well to taking tips, so most of our patrons know to put tips in there instead. If anyone tries to give you tips, put them in there at the end. The crowd is usually respectful, but we do have a security guy in case anyone tries to get touchy or inappropriate. Just give us a signal.” She claps her hands together, grin wide. “I think that’s all, so I’m ready when you are, baby!”

“Okay, got it. I think I’m ready.”

“I’ll go out and introduce you then. Come out when I call for you, alright?”

“I think I can handle that,” Rina replies, and Hoshi gives her a wink before stepping out through the stage door.

Rina feels a little flushed, distracted enough that she almost misses July and Tiana leaving the dressing room through the side door. It’s just her, Diva, and the sound of Hoshi’s voice greeting the crowd outside, the energy of the patrons filtering through into the backroom.

“I’m on after you, to introduce Hoshi’s set,” Diva explains, and gives Rina an encouraging thumbs up. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” she says, feeling the stage nerves clutch at her chest, squeezing her lungs flat. It’s a been a while since she’s felt this nervous; it’s the new place, the new people, the heavy pressure.

“We’ve got a new act tonight, everyone! She’s here to warm up the stage a little bit, get you guys excited,” Hoshi is saying, and Rina moves closer to the stage door, looking down at her glittering heels and steadying her breathing. “I hope you’ll all give a warm welcome to the Queen of Jeju, the wonderful Tangerina!”

She steps through the door and takes the short walk to the stage steps, smiling at the crowd that claps a greeting for her. Hoshi passes her on the way down the stairs, trailing a reassuring touch along her arm.

“Well hello, everyone!” she says into the mic as she takes the centre of the stage. “Thank you for welcoming me tonight. I’m only here to perform one song, but I’m hoping to get you all ready for the night ahead of you. The Pink Dive is a truly special place, and I feel honoured to have you lovely people in my audience tonight.” There’s some tipsy cheering from the crowd. It’s bigger than what she’s used to at the Queer Rite, but she steels herself against the gnawing nerves in her belly. “Let’s get on with it shall we?” With that, she looks over to Tiana, who fiddles with the sound system. As the music starts up, she sees July and Hoshi in the crowd, having joined the table with Jeonghan and her other friends. They’re completely focused on her, and she’s determined to give them a good show.

When the opening notes play, the crowd recognise the song and begin to titter with pleased whoops and chatter. As she strides across the stage to do the opening moves, they become noisier, and the energy encourages her. She does the opening choreography with big confident movements, and launches into the first lines with a stable voice, giving it her all. By the time she reaches the second chorus, the crowd are enthusiastically joining in, and she knows she’s done well to choose a big hit from this year—they can sing along to every word, and go wild for the chorus choreography, even though it’s not the hardest part of the song.

“So don’t play with me boy,” she sings, kneeling down to meet eyes with a man at the front of the crowd, who grins up at her. She smirks and stands again, stalks back to the centre of the stage to do the wide bridge moves, her hip swinging gaining some appreciative whistles. Despite the new place, the new people, the unfamiliarity of this club and this city and this stage, she loves it up here. Performing, it turns out, is the same wherever you go; as long as the crowd encourages you, you can love your art in all its forms, in any time or place.

The end of the dance approaches quickly, and she holds the mic out in her hand to hold the end pose, and it picks up some of the noise of the crowd.

“Yes, Tangerina!” a woman in a nearby group yells, and it makes her smile, flattered by their reaction. She does a twirl to face the crowd again, then a quick bow of thanks, and struts off the stage. Diva Saur passes her on the way up the steps and pats her shoulder in congratulations.

“You did so well!” she says, though Rina barely has time to thank her back as Diva climbs up onto the stage to begin talking to the crowd.

“What did you think of that?” she asks the crowd, and they respond with cheers and appreciative whoops that make Rina smile wider as she makes her way over to Hoshi and Tiana by the sound system.

“You were incredible!” Hoshi praises, and Rina can feel herself blushing under all her makeup. Hoshi complimenting her is like something out of a dream. “Stick around until the end of the night and I’ll talk to you properly then, alright? We usually divide up tips then, too.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, I was barely on there for three minutes—”

Hoshi holds up a hand, hushing her. Rina’s still not quite over the fact that she’s interacting with someone like Hoshi at all, otherwise she wouldn’t be so obedient. “Stay until the end of the night. We usually shut around 4am—you can come by tomorrow if that’s too late for you. You did really well, Rina.” She gives her another lingering touch to her wrist before she walks off towards the stage—Diva is about to announce her set.

“Good job up there!” Tiana says encouragingly. “The performance was so fun! You can really sing, Rina!”

“Thank you!” she says gratefully, before dipping into the crowd to leave Tiana to her work. They must be short staffed here if the other queens run things like the sound system. Though she knows she nailed the performance, it’s clear that her own capability might not be the only factor in grabbing a job opening here.

When she reaches her friends and slides into the booth they’re settled in, they’re overflowing with praises.

“That was so good, Rina!” Seokmin says enthusiastically. “The dancing was so cool!” He imitates one of the moves, but it looks more like he’s trying to slither out of his seat. Jihoon laughs at him.

“And your voice,” Jeonghan agrees. “You didn’t tell me you could sing like that!”

“I can sing like that,” she says, cheeky. “I’ve always loved to. This is an exciting way for me to get to do it, I can tell you that.”

“It’s obvious you love it,” Jihoon says, smiling. “You’re a real performer.”

“Yeah,” Joshua agrees. “If they don’t give you a job after this, they’re missing out.”

“Thanks,” she replies, preening under the praise and taking a seat by July, who gives her a small nod and smile.

“You were very good, Tangerina. I hope Hoshi decides to take you on.”

“Me too,” she says, and turns to watch the stage where Hoshi is hip thrusting sensually to a western-sounding song. The smooth bass and breathy female voice have the crowd enraptured, watching her move so gracefully across the stage. Rina is enamoured too; it’s impossible not to watch Hoshi dance, once you start. Her set is varied and exciting; in the space of half an hour, she goes from RnB to a loud EDM number, then to a Shinee song, and the contradiction somehow suits her very well. She sings along to the Korean ones, but the rest are dance focused, and Rina can’t blame her for it. She’d be tired after just one song in such a setlist.

At the end of her set, she swaps out with Tiana, who takes the stage to introduce Diva’s performance, and the night goes on. The crowd grows in size and in drunkenness, and they become more and more enthusiastic as the performances continue. While watching her set, she begins to wonder how long Diva has been doing this, exactly. She knows Hoshi must be looking out for her, but she still feels concerned; shouldn’t Diva be beginning her last year of high school, focusing on her studies? Instead, she’s performing in night clubs more than once a week, late at night, in this area of Seoul. She can’t help but feel a little jealous, too—if she’d been able to start before she was an adult, she’d be a better performer, more experienced, have more knowledge. Not as good as Diva or any of the other queens here, but still.

There’s a break after Diva’s performance, and the other queens head backstage again. Rina is left to talk with her new University friends while they wait, and the conversation turns to their questions about drag. It’s kind of nice to discuss it with people who understand more than Hansol or Mingyu, but who haven’t grown up knowing him intimately, like Jinseol and Sojeong.

“It’s like any other type of performing,” she explains. “Anyone who sings or dances or raps on a stage, there’s a presentation part to it, right? Idol groups have matching outfits, JYP had those see-through pants, and drag queens dress in the most outstanding outfits possible, will do anything for a stunning look.”

“So you started doing it because of the outfits?” Seokmin asks.

She hums. “Hard to say. I’ve always loved dressing up, but I’ve always loved singing too. And I’ve been a fan of girl groups for as long as I can remember, so the dancing always naturally came with that, I guess. I would always put on performances for my family growing up. It’s less like a hobby and more like, my passion, you know? It’s a part of me, too. I would be so miserable if I couldn’t do this.”

When it gets later into the night, she’s starts itching to dance again. A few people have come over to congratulate her on the performance, and just as she’s about to ask one of the cute ones to dance with her, Hoshi’s voice comes ringing through the speakers.

“Hello again!” she calls. Rina looks over to the stage, only to find it bare. Jihoon taps her arm and indicates to the opposite stage, the one with the pole, where Hoshi is twirling her way to the centre to grab the attention of the people in the surrounding seating booths. Rina swivels in her chair to watch, curious about the location switch.

“You’re a lucky crowd today. My whole family are in, which means it’s time for the last two performances to round up the night. Are you ready?”

“Yes!” the crowd calls back. Rina notes how quickly people are coming from the dance floor to crowd the seating area, ready for the performance.

“Will you cheer for her as loud as you can?”

“Yes!” the crowd shout again, louder, drunk on alcohol and buzzed on the energy of the room.

“Then get ready for one sexy girl in the form of our resident babe, July!”

Rina claps with everyone else, excited to see her performance. She’d been wondering how someone so shy would take to a stage; she’s about to find out, it seems, as July steps across the stage, looking beautiful and lean in the red stage lights, long dark hair tumbling down her back. She walks up to the pole and rests one hand on it lightly, barely acknowledging the presence of the excited audience as a thick beat begins thumping through the speakers. A high male voice starts singing in English, and she grips the pole with both hands, holding with enough strength to propel her legs up around the pole and hold her there, suspended upside down and spinning steadily.

The crowd scream in appreciation, and Rina can feel her mouth drop open as she watches July bend backwards in a seemingly impossible way to grip the pole again, kicking her legs out and resting her back against the pole as she continues spinning. As the song progresses, she spins faster, moving quicker and in more complex ways, pulling off some dizzying moves as the chorus beats kick in. At the end of the chorus, she’s suspended upside down, arm extended in a graceful bend, not even trembling with the effort she must be using to maintain such a position. For the second verse she comes off the pole to do some twirls across the stage, steady and professional, kneeling down to greet a member of the audience sat close to the edge of the stage, making eye contact only to stand up again in one swift movement, walking back over to the pole. She holds it loosely with one hand to do some kicks and drops still planted on the stage floor. It’s not long, though, before she’s back in the air again, flipping around the pole in such a way that Rina wonders where she’s gripping it at all. Perhaps she’s inhuman, enchanting them all with her dance. It seems more feasible than this being a real, human feat, happening before her eyes.

The song seems to go on for several minutes, and it ends with July performing the splits effortlessly, heeled feet hovering a metre above the stage, grasping the pole in the crook of one arm. The crowd scream in delight and one man near the stage strains to hold out tips for her. She doesn’t even look his way, instead elegantly coming down on both feet and sweeping from the stage, her black mesh dress revealing the muscle that Rina now understands completely.

Hoshi walks on stage seconds later and nudges the tip box closer to the edge, reminding the audience of it, before swiftly moving on to introducing Princess Tiana. Rina, at this point, decides she needs a drink, even if she’s trying to stay sober for the conversation with Hoshi later. She deserves one before she has to face July again; she’d sorely underestimated that girl.

She watches Tiana’s performance from the bar. She’s amazing too, of course. They all are. Rina had been so confident in Jeju—the drag scene there is so small, it’s not like she’d had much competition. Coming to Seoul and hoping for a seamless transition into the scene here is like going from the little league to the National Championships and expecting to win.

When Tiana’s set is done, Diva comes over to the bar to pull Rina away. “Hoshi has a free moment, if you want to come and talk?”

“Oh, yes!” she says, standing up and trying not to show her nerves. It’s okay if you don’t get it, she thinks. There’ll be other places in Seoul. Never mind that you’re already in love with this place. Never mind that you want to be in the same league as these performers. It’s okay if you don’t get it.

Diva leads her backstage again, where the other queens are sat waiting, looking beautiful and put-together despite the intense dancing they’ve done since the beginning of the night. Rina wonders if she can say the same for herself.

“Rina!” Hoshi greets her enthusiastically, as if they hadn’t spoken just an hour or two ago. “I know I told you this earlier, but we all loved your performance. You have a crazy good energy.”

“Thanks,” she says, coming to sit down with them, Diva taking the seat opposite. “That means a lot, coming from you guys.”

“Here’s your share of tips,” Tiana says, handing over a wad of cash. Rina does a quick count and looks up at Tiana in disbelief—there’s sixty thousand won here, double what she’d make in a good night at the Queer Rite. And she only performed one song.

“I can’t take all this, seriously, you guys performed most of the night!” She tries to hand the cash back to Hoshi, who dodges her exaggeratedly, leaping up out of her seat to take up a fighting pose.

“Miss Tangerina! Take your tips, or I will not be responsible for what happens next!” she says, and Rina stares down at the cash in her hand again.

“Seriously, you deserve it,” Tiana says kindly.

Hoshi relaxes her fighting stance to perch on the arm of the chair instead. “Instead of rejecting your pay, let’s talk about your place here.”

Rina looks up again, wordless.

“Tangerina, I would love to take you on here. Seriously. You bring something different to the rest of us, and it would give us the opportunity to put on shows more frequently. I think you’d be a real addition to the Pink Dive.”

“I’m sensing a But,” Rina says, holding her breath.

Hoshi inclines her head. “But… I just don’t have the cash spare to pay you a real wage for it. You would share the tips with us, of course, but nothing extra. You’d have to work at least two nights a week to make the five-way split worth it; Diva lives on the cash she gets from performances, and I expect you’d be doing the same as a student? I want to encourage you to visit some other gay clubs and see if you can get a better offer, because you deserve it. But there’s definitely an opening for you here, if you want to come back to us.”

Rina takes that in for a second, resting her hands in her lap. “Unnie, you don’t know how much I want to perform here. Tonight was so fun. You girls are amazing. I would love to perform alongside you all every week; I’d do it for free if you asked me to. I don’t want to do it for the money. I want to do it because I love it, and I can tell everyone in your crowd does too, so I’d love to be here as a regular. This is more than I’ve ever made in a night on Jeju, anyway. It’s more than enough.”

Hoshi’s smile grows, watching her with glittering eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

“Certain.” Rina looks back at her steadily. After a moment, Hoshi claps her hands together and stands.

“Well, I’d say tonight has been a successful night, hasn’t it? Here—” She bends down to dig around in her bag for her phone, and Rina tries not to stare at her ass. “Put your number in. You’ll need to swap details with all of us, if you’re on board. Share your social media, everything. We need to get to know each other outside of drag, too—we usually meet at my place on Mondays to plan the week ahead, if you’re willing to come?”

“Of course! Sounds perfect! Let me share my timetable with you.”

She quickly gives her details to Hoshi, who needs to leave again to do a round of the club. She stays in the back room for a while, swapping information with the other three girls, who talk with her warmly. There’s a buzz in her belly and a song in her heart at the prospect of working with them properly for the foreseeable future. Maybe studying in Seoul won’t be so bad, after all.

After a while they get up to go back into the club, too; the four of them seem to care a lot about this place, about it running smoothly. Maybe it’s why she was attracted to it—there’s love and care ingrained in the body of this club. It has a strong personality. She knows a thing or two about having a strong personality.

She makes her way back to the table her friends have been inhabiting all night to find Jeonghan sitting alone. “You just missed the others leaving,” he tells her. “They said to tell you goodbye, but Seokmin was a bit too drunk, so Joshua went to take him home. I think Jihoon was tired, too.”

“Are you ready to go home, then?”

“If you’re done, yeah. This place closes soon anyway. What did Hoshi say?”

Rina grins at him. “She wants me to come back. We’re meeting on Monday to discuss more performances.”

Jeonghan’s face lights up despite the late hour. He’s a little tipsy, which makes him clingier with his congratulatory hug. “Yes! Well done! That’s so exciting, Rina!”

Rina blushes, stumbling a little to accommodate for his weight. “I’m just glad they didn’t reject me! This place is so cool, and they want me here! I’ve made it!”

“You’ve made it!” Jeonghan agrees, and Rina laughs, leading him towards the club door. July waves to them on the way out, and she smiles back, arm in arm with Jeonghan as they emerge into the cool night air outside.

 

-

 

His lectures begin on Monday, and just as he had predicted, they’re boring as fuck. They’d leapt right into the content, with big words he doesn’t know and models he doesn’t care about, and he nearly falls asleep by the end of the third hour. Who decided three-hour lectures were a good idea, anyway? They’re designed to bore all students to death, he’s sure.

He’s far more enthused about meeting the girls again tonight. Hoshi had texted him her address the day before, along with a time, and the instruction to come out of drag. He knows it’s a silly thought, but he’s hoping they still like him, as Seungkwan.

He steps through the door with a bottle of Baileys—he figures he should try and be a good guest for his first time here—and is immediately thrown off. The other four are already there, but out of drag, and he can’t tell which is Hoshi—he looks around and sees four strangers, and understands why she’d declared this so important.

“Hi!” he says, slipping his shoes off. “So, I brought alcohol, but I can’t tell which of you I can give it to. I’d feel bad handing alcohol over to a minor.” He scans the room, going between faces, trying to pick out any recognisable features “Don’t try and fool me, Diva!”

“You can’t tell who anyone is?” says the red-haired man who’d answered the door. “Try and guess.”

Seungkwan narrows his eyes at him, then looks around again, gaze stopping on something familiar. He points over to the boy with big eyes and prominent cheekbones. “July, right?”

He nods at her, a smile tugging at his lips, his shy voice confirming her suspicion. “Jun.”

“Your name is Jun? Is that why your drag name is July?”

He presses his lips together and nods. He probably gets that a lot.

“People usually don’t recognise Jun so fast. The pole dancing thing throws them off,” the blonde lounging on the sofa says, sporting a curling smile through his words.

“Aha! Tiana has a Chinese accent,” Seungkwan says, pointing at both the blonde and redhead, “but both of you sound Korean! Which means you’re Tiana!” He points over at the fourth boy, who has an open expression, smiling openly at his guessing game.

The boy across the room nods his confirmation. “You’re right. My name is Minghao. It’s nice to meet you, again.”

“You too!” he agrees. “That’s two out of four. You two though…” He looks between the remaining two boys, torn. “You kind of have similar faces. I’m not sure. Hoshi?” He points at the blonde hopefully, who lets out an endearing giggle and shakes his head.

He gasps. “You’re Diva! You don’t look like a baby, though!”

“Hey! I’m only a year younger than you!”

“That means you…” He turns back to the redhead, who’s grinning at him.

“I’m Soonyoung, that’s Chan. Everyone, this is Seungkwan, our newest recruit!”

Minghao lets out a whoop whilst coming over to pry the Bailey’s from his hand. Jun and Chan chirp a happy greeting in perfect synchrony, then laugh at each other for it. Jun seems much more comfortable here than in the busy atmosphere of the club.

“Sit down, Kwannie, and we can talk about this week.” Soonyoung guides him to sit beside Chan, and Minghao comes back through with glasses to start pouring everyone drinks.

“So the club is open Tuesday to Saturday, and we usually do shows on a Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, at least two people performing per night. I’m there every night, because I run the place, but sometimes I need to work at the bar, or whatever, so I can’t always perform. It depends on the night.”

“I could perform any of those nights. I only have evening lectures on a Thursday.”

“How many nights a week do you want to work? Or do you need to wait and figure out your workload first?”

“Honestly, this is going to be my escape from the hell that my course looks like it’s going to be. I would be more than happy to work all three nights.”

“I can only work on Wednesday this week,” Minghao says. “They’ve put me on a load of shifts at work.”

They spend some time bartering for dates. Chan only works on Fridays and Saturdays, mostly at Soonyoung’s insistence, it seems—Jun is flexible, as is Soonyoung. They split the days evenly, so that they’re all performing two nights this week, except Minghao, with only the Wednesday slot.

“What are you studying, Seungkwan?” Minghao asks.

“Business studies,” he replies, pulling a face.

“That’s what I studied,” Soonyoung says, and Seungkwan stops pulling the face, scratching his head. “It’s not exactly thrilling stuff, but the Pink Dive wouldn’t be open without it.”

“How did you get your head around it? I started today and I already feel like I’m behind. All the concepts they tried to introduce are so confusing.”

“I worked hard,” Soonyoung shrugs. “I felt like I had no choice. It was difficult, but I did it because I’d bet everything on getting that degree. Granted, my parents were hoping I’d do more than open a club, but I’m grateful for it now.”

Seungkwan sighs. “I’m only here because I didn’t know what else to do. I’m just hoping it gets better as I get the hang of it.”

 

-

 

He doesn’t get the hang of it. His first major deadlines come back two months later, and two of them are a straight fail—one of them scrapes a pass, but he knows that’s only because he’d asked for Soonyoung’s help with it. He’d been kind enough to explain the concept to Seungkwan in detail, but he’d still struggled to grasp it, and Soonyoung had gone through to correct his essay. Without that, it would’ve been a fail too.

He decides not to go home for Christmas break. At home, he has to face everyone and either lie, say that university is going great, or tell the truth, that he’s a failure wasting a year of tuition fees on a degree he doesn’t understand and can’t apply to real life. In Seoul, however, he can continue to avoid his Ma’s calls, give vague answers to his sisters’ texts, and perform three nights a week at the Pink Dive. He misses the Queer Rite, but the tips he gets here allow him to buy better outfits, allow him to eat out with Jeonghan or go to the movies with Jihoon or go shopping with Joshua and Seokmin. He loves living in Seoul, especially when he can forget about university for a little while and enjoy the city instead.

Working at the Pink Dive only gets better as the school year progresses. As the regular crowd get to know him, he gets more tips and louder cheers. He learns the names of Soonyoung’s staff and some of the regular patrons, familiarises himself with each area of the club to the point of being able to navigate it with his eyes closed. Flirts with cute boys, makes out with some of them, though it never progresses further than that. The Pink Dive becomes his second home, the heart of his life in Seoul. Maybe it’s not about being too scared to go home—maybe it’s about being too scared to leave this place, all the new friends he has, friends that understand and accommodate for him. His life is here, and he doesn’t want to leave it behind.

 

-

 

He gets a call from Soonyoung on a Friday in March, asking him to substitute in for that night’s performance. It’s supposed to be July, Tiana and Diva performing that night, giving Seungkwan some time to study, but Chan had thrown up whilst helping Soonyoung open the club that afternoon. Minghao had arrived, declared him to be too ill to work, and insisted on taking him back to his shared flat with Jun to put him to bed. Which means they’re two queens down for the night.

“And we’re short staffed tonight anyway—one of my bar staff is sick too, there must be something going around, I don’t think I can pull together an outfit and perform on top of everything else I’m trying to run. I’m sorry to ask so last minute, Seungkwannie, but if you’re free…?”

He can tell from Soonyoung’s voice that he’s stressed out—more than he usually is on a Friday night, their busiest day—and what the hell, this essay can wait a couple more days anyway. If his family need him, he’ll come running, six-inch heels and all.

“Of course, Hyung! I’ll put something on and be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“You’re a life saver,” he breathes, and Seungkwan can practically see him massaging his forehead on the other end of the line.

 

 

Despite how busy it is, Soonyoung greets her as soon as she arrives.

“Hey, babe. Thanks again, seriously. You look amazing, by the way.” Soonyoung takes her hand to lead her through the crowd.

“Thanks, Oppa,” she says. It had been a last minute outfit, but she’d decided to pull on a beautiful blue dress that she’s been waiting to wear for a while. It dips alluringly at the front, riding up at the sides to show off her thighs. Paired with a shoulder length brown wig, the attention is drawn in all the right places, to all her assets, to her glittery blue eyeshadow and shiny highlight. July is already up and performing on the pole, drawing the room’s attention, so she slips into the backroom mostly unnoticed.

“I’ll announce you in half an hour or so? Give July time to finish and the crowd a rest in between. She puts on an intense show.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” she laughs. “How is Channie doing?”

Soonyoung sighs. “He’s been kind of dizzy all day, said he couldn’t concentrate at school. Made me jump out of my skin when he threw up all over the bar. I just hope it isn’t something serious.”

“Why did Minghao take him back to his place? Couldn’t he drop him off with his parents?”

Soonyoung doesn’t meet her eyes. “Chan hasn’t lived with his parents for a while now. He’s been sleeping on my couch for over a year.”

Rina freezes in place. How has she missed this detail? “What?”

Soonyoung shrugs. “He has shitty parents. He wanted to drop out of school and work to pay me some rent. He’s only finishing because it’s my one condition for his dependence on me.”

Rina looks at Soonyoung, wide-eyed. “No way,” she breathes. Chan is disowned and homeless? He’s always so bright, joking around with her like nothing in the world could bother him. It’s unfathomable that anyone could kick out someone like him, someone so easy to love.

“Yeah. It’s shit. But when he finishes school, he’ll start working properly, and hopefully we can afford a place with a real bed for him.”

There’s a surge of noise from outside as July’s song comes to a close. Rina can hear the muffled sound of her talking to the crowd in a gentle voice through her mic.

“I should get back out there,” Soonyoung says. “I’ll send July in to help you get ready. Listen out for me, okay?”

“Believe me,” she says, shaking away the Chan revelation. “It would be hard not to hear you.”

That makes Soonyoung smirk, and he winks at her before leaving the backroom.

 

 

The performance goes well. She’s up there for a full fourty-five minutes, but has enough in her roster to perform a good set on the fly. Opens with Red Velvet’s Russian Roulette for the first time, which goes down well, and closes with EXID’s Hot Pink as a finale, which is always a crowd pleaser. She walks backstage after the set to find July wiping off her makeup and packing away her outfit.

“I can stay to help out if you need me here, but Minghao is stressing out. He’s texted six times to remind me to buy some medication on my way home.”

“Is Chan worse?” Soonyoung asks, anxious.

“He’s asleep, but you know what Hao is like. He’s just worried. Good set, Rina.”

“Thanks,” she says, plopping down into one of the chairs, trying to get her breath back.

“Yeah, thank you again for covering,” Soonyoung says, but Rina waves him away.

“Don’t thank me. I’ve got you. I can stay until closing if you need an extra hand.”

“Rina, really—”

“It’s a Friday, Oppa. It’s not like I have to get up for classes tomorrow. Accept my help, okay?”

Soonyoung sighs and rests against the dresser, exhausted. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” He turns back to face Jun again. “Shall I come by to pick up Chan later?”

“We can look after him for tonight. It’s probably better not to move him all over the place. Hao and I can share a bed and give him a night’s sleep on an actual mattress, too.”

“Right,” Soonyoung says, then stands up straight to give Jun a hug. “Thank you. You all look after me better than I can look after you. Call me if you need anything.”

“We’re a family, Soonyoungie,” Jun says quietly. “Of course we’ll look after you. Don’t worry too much, okay?”

Soonyoung nods. “Goodnight, Junnie.”

“Goodnight,” Rina chimes in as he leaves, waving at the both of them on his way out. Jun has opened up to her more the longer she’s been a regular here, and she’d learned that he’s more than just a shy boy with a pretty face. He’s goofy and funny but also caring and serious when he needs to be. More than once, she’d wondered how he and Minghao have ended up in the Korean drag scene, so far from home. She doesn’t like to pry, though. They all know how personal that sort of history is.

Soonyoung has to go back behind the bar after that, so Rina takes up a position on the dance floor, making sure everyone is happy and safe. Most of the people she dances with know who she is and compliment her performance, and the ones who are too drunk to recognise her she sends home. A few regulars ask after Diva and Tiana, who had been advertised for the performance tonight, and send their well wishes for Diva, which she promises to pass on.

It’s particularly busy that night, but they don’t have too many people to kick out by closing time, and she and Soonyoung chase out the last few stragglers without hassle. She bids the workers a goodnight as they close the bar and filter out, then helps Soonyoung lock everything up. By the time they’re standing outside the silent club, it’s past 4AM.

“Do you want to come back to mine? You shouldn’t be walking around Seoul on your own at this time,” Soonyoung says. She usually declines when her other friends make offers like this, but she knows Soonyoung will have everything she needs to take her makeup off before bed, and his place is closer anyway.

“Sure,” she says, heels clipping on the pavement as they take the short walk to his car.

 

 

He and Soonyoung have sex that night. Soonyoung is gentle and attentive and everything Seungkwan could hope for in a first time. When he tells Soonyoung this, though, he just sits up in alarm, looking down at him on the bed.

“That was your first time?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking up a little shyly. “Is that surprising?”

“You should’ve told me!” Soonyoung grumbles, settling back into the mattress, slinging an arm around Seungkwan. “I would’ve made it more special.”

Seungkwan hits his arm gently as he turns over to get comfortable. “It was special, I already told you. You’re so hyperactive, usually, but so gentle in bed.” He grins to himself. “Like a tiger in the streets, but a kitty in the sheets.”

Soonyoung snorts and pushes at him. “I’m kicking you out of this bed if you’re going to ruin my post-orgasm mood.”

Seungkwan giggles to himself and snuggles back into Soonyoung’s arms. There’s silence for a few minutes, before Soonyoung says,

“Was it really okay?”

“Of course, Hyung. Everything’s okay. You’ve done well tonight.” He pats him consolingly, skin slapping against bare skin. “Now go to sleep.”

 

-

 

The end of the school year comes around three months later, along with the reality of facing the proverbial music. He’s not all that surprised to find out that he’s failed the year, but more anxious about facing his family with the news. He knows exactly what he wants to do from here, but it’ll be difficult to convince his Ma that it’s possible.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling, Seungkwan?” Ma asks, cradling her head in her hands. Maybe if he’d thought this through, he would’ve dropped some hints to let her down slowly. Maybe announcing his shocking failure wasn’t the best way to start his summer break. “We could’ve switched your course, or got you tutoring, or—”

“Ma…” he says, sighing. That familiar background guilt of being unable to live up to the son she wants him to be washes over him for a moment, and he blinks back tears. It’s not like he’s had much of a choice in this either, though; he knows he’s found what he’s passionate about. It’s just not at Chonbuk National University. “I’m sorry. I don’t think any of that would’ve helped me much, though. I hated that course. I hated the work—I couldn’t do any of it. But it wasn’t a year wasted, I promise! I met so many people and learned a lot, just outside of my studies. I have a plan, and I know what I should do next.”

Ma raises her head to look at him. “If it’s to do with your performing, Seungkwan,” she splutters, looking around for non-existent backup, “that’s not a real job, how could you ever live on that—”

“Ma, I was making seventy thousand won a night performing in Seoul. I could take some more nights in other clubs if I had the free time, and if I took up a day job too, I could easily afford to share a place with Noona.” He turns to Jinseol, sitting on the other couch watching the argument go down. Her eyebrows fly up into her hairline at her sudden involvement in the conversation.

“Me?”

“You’ve been talking about moving back to Seoul for years, Noona. If we shared a place, the cost would be affordable, right? You’ve been saving for so long; what are you waiting for?”

For once, Jinseol seems speechless. “Well—I mean, I…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Seungkwan. Performing is a wonderful hobby, but it’s not practical! You won’t have a reliable income, Jinseol has no work lined up there—”

“We would take any jobs we can get to pay rent at first, and work towards where we want to be. I know we can do it. It’s not just rich people who make it into the performing industry, Ma, I already have a foot in the door. This is what I love, and the theatre is what Jinseol loves, and this is our opportunity. Going back to university would be a waste of money for me. Jinseol staying in Jeju to work in dead-end jobs is a waste of time for her. We can do this together and make real progress in our lives.”

He stares at Ma, and Ma stares right back. Jinseol stands up and walks over to him, taking him by the forearms, and Seungkwan gives her all his attention instead.

“Do you really think we can?” she asks, speaking to him with a seriousness he rarely hears from her.

“Yes. I know we can.”

Ma rakes her hands through her hair, shaking it in disbelief. “You can’t move to Seoul, Seungkwan. It’s not going to happen.”

 

-

 

They move to Seoul the next month, thanks to Soonyoung’s help in buying them a flat, on top of everything else he’s doing to run the Pink Dive. Seungkwan is immensely grateful, and he’s glad that the few times they’ve slept together hasn’t affected their friendship.

Jinseol manages to find work in a store that allows her to be flexible around auditions, while he grinds at the Pink Dive three times a week. Chan, who has also just finished school, is in the same position as him, performing all three drag nights a week as well as looking for anywhere else that will employ him. He’s noticed a change in Chan since he’d returned to Seoul, though—he doesn’t laugh at his jokes so much, barely even speaks to him unless Seungkwan speaks first. He’s not sure if it’s because he learned about Chan’s past through Soonyoung, or if maybe he feels like they’re competing for attention at the Pink Dive, or if someone here has finally realised how annoying Seungkwan can be. That uncertainty, along with his numerous nerve-wracking interviews and job rejections, makes his first month of living independently a trying one.

Opportunities come from unexpected places, though, as he ends up finding a job through Hansol, of all people. He calls one day, completely out of the blue, to tell him that he’s going to be in Seoul for a few weeks over summer, and that he’d like to come by and visit him sometime.

“Of course! It’s been too long, Hansol. I’m currently trying and failing to find a job, though, so we might have to do something cheap.”

“Oh, Wonwoo said they’re understaffed at their work, you know. You could try there.”

Seungkwan shakes his head, though Hansol can’t see him down the phone. “You’re doing that vague thing again, Hansol. Who is Wonwoo and where does he work?”

“Ah, it’s actually they,” Hansol corrects gently. “Wonwoo prefers to be called they. They’re my significant other, and I’m coming to Seoul to visit them. We met online earlier this year.”

Seungkwan gasps. “Hansol! You have a boyf—a partner, and you didn’t tell me?”

“It never came up!” he defends. “Besides, I’m telling you now, aren’t I? You can meet them if you like, when I fly over.”

“Oh, there’s nothing I would like more,” Seungkwan says, smiling down the phone. “I’m really glad you found someone, Hansol.”

“Yeah,” he replies, and he can hear the smile in his voice, too. “So am I.”

 

 

Wonwoo is playful and kind and clearly head-over-heels for Hansol, so they get Seungkwan’s approval. He invites them both to come to the Pink Dive to watch him perform that night, and Wonwoo offers to put a word in for him at the café they work at. They’re only there part-time, as they’re a Mathematics student at Seoul National University (what a smart-ass), but they say there’s still full-time jobs to be filled there. When he goes in for the interview a few days later, he’s met by none other than Im Changkyun, one of his flatmates from last year. Thankfully, he’s not the one doing his interview, so it goes smoothly, and he’s offered a job by the end of the week.

It takes him and Jinseol a little while to settle in, but by September they’re finally in a routine. Seungkwan is performing nearly every night of the work, picking up slots at gay clubs around Seoul and even doing the odd private performance, which are interesting experiences. His social media numbers are reflecting his hard work, and he knows he’s becoming a known name in the Seoul drag community. Jinseol gets a role with a small performance company, and she’s practically glowing when she comes back from every rehearsal, practising the songs she needs to know at all hours of the night. That’s what makes Seungkwan feel like it’s worth it—they’re both tired, but happy to be doing what they each love. As long as they have that, he knows they’ll be okay.

 

-

 

Sojeong comes to stay for a few days when Jinseol’s show starts in November. He and Sojeong see her show on a Saturday afternoon, and cheer for her the loudest at the end of the performance, and then his sisters come and see Tangerina perform at the Pink Dive that night, cheer the loudest for her too. She’s so, so grateful to have them and their support. She knows things would be different without them in her life.

There’s a cute boy staring at her with starry eyes for her whole set, so she drags him away to make out with for a little while afterwards. It’s nice, but she loses him somewhere around midnight, and goes back to dancing with her sisters instead.

At some point in the night, she spots Diva sitting at the bar on her own, watching her. They meet eyes, but instead of smiling, she turns away. Rina excuses herself to go over to her.

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” she asks, sliding onto the barstool next to her.

Diva scoffs gently. “I’ll have you know this is the finest gay club in Seoul.”

“You’re damn right it is,” she replies. Diva doesn’t say anything, but looks into her drink, shoulders heavy. Rina hesitates before starting to talk, and she hates it; their dynamic was never like this before, and she’s not sure when or why it changed. “Diva, what’s been up with you?” she asks, tentatively. She doesn’t want to pry too much, but she can’t stand to see one of her best friends so down.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Diva looks up, seemingly confused.

“You’ve been quieter lately—you don’t talk to me as much, and I miss you. Is it something I said? Is it about leaving school? Whatever it is, can I help you?”

Diva is staring at her, her mouth a little O shape. “Oh, I really didn’t know I was being like that! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“So it is to do with me?” she asks anxiously. “What is it? Please tell me so I know not to do it again.”

Diva shakes her head furiously. “No, really, it’s not your fault! I just let my jealousy get ahead of me sometimes. I’ll try to be more aware of it, I swear.”

“Jealousy? You have everything that I have, and you’re leagues beyond me as a performer. What is it?”

Diva frowns at that, looking down at her lap. “That’s not true, though. You have a lot of things that I want. You have a family who love and support you.” She glances over to where Jinseol is dancing with a girl and Sojeong is sat back at their table, scrolling through her phone. “You have Soonyoung, you have your own place, your own job. All I have is performing, and the shitty couch I sleep on. And even that isn’t mine.”

Rina feels a guilty stupidity in her gut for being unable to recognise that Diva lacks so much she has, for not realising how much she’s been keeping in, but before she can apologise, her mouth is stuck on one thing. “Soonyoung? I don’t _have_ him anymore than you do.”

Diva immediately goes red in the face, and turns back to the bar, refusing to look Rina in the eye. “Oh, well. You know. You’re just close, these days.”

Something clicks in Rina’s mind. “Oh. Oh, Diva, baby—why didn’t you say anything? If I’d known that you like him, I would’ve stopped sleeping with him months ago—”

Diva whips around so fast Rina doesn’t see the hand coming up to her mouth to silence her. “Please, God, don’t say anything, Unnie. We live together, and I know he still sees me as a kid, and it’s just weird, okay? You don’t have to stop anything. You can do what you like.”

“Don’t be silly, I’ll break it off. Don’t worry about it. Bros before hoes, sisters before misters, all that jazz. As for the flat and job—they came to me after hard work and plenty of tears, and they’ll come to you too. Keep looking for work, and you’ll get there eventually. And you have us, don’t you? Blood family means nothing if they don’t love you properly. You’ll always have our family to come back to, and we love you so much. I promise.”

Diva puts her hand over her heart, leaning against the bar. “Thanks, Unnie. You can’t go around calling Soonyoung your hoe, though.”

“Why not? It’s already in her name. Bros before Ho-shi’s, my dear Diva.”

Diva actually laughs at that, a wet giggle stifled behind her hand. Rina grins at her. “Now, that’s better. Do you want to come and dance with me?”

 

-

 

He wakes up on a Friday in December with a dozen missed calls and about thirty texts from Soonyoung. He calls him back whilst getting ready for his shift at the café.

“Seungkwannie!” Soonyoung’s voice rattles down the speakerphone after the first ring, and he sounds awful. His voice is croaking like it hasn’t been used in years, tinny tone indicating a blocked nose.

“Hyung?” Seungkwan asks, pulling his uniform out of the wardrobe. It has a place right at the end of the rack, shamed by the more extravagant attire filling up the rest of it. “What’s up?”

“I’m so glad you called back, Seungkwannie. I’m having a crisis.”

Seungkwan doesn’t get learn what sort of crisis this is, as at that moment, Soonyoung starts up a horrendous coughing fit that lasts several minutes too long. He can hear Chan’s distant voice soothing him at the other end of the line, and when he manages to get over the fit, Chan says firmly,

“Drink this, right now.” Then, his voice gets closer, as he picks up the phone and starts explaining what Soonyoung clearly can’t. “Hi, Hyung. Soonyoung has been trying to get a hold of you all morning because he’s stressing out. He’s super sick.”

“I can tell,” Seungkwan says, cringing in sympathy.

“He can’t run the club in this state, and usually the three of us would be able to take over, but he’s really not well, Hyung, so I don’t want to leave him here alone all night.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should,” Seungkwan agrees. They don’t want him choking until he can’t breathe, or passing out from a fever, all alone in his flat.

“I’m fine,” he hears Soonyoung protest weakly.

“Anyway,” Chan barrels on, ignoring him. “Minghao also can’t work tonight because he’s on a shift until late. That means there’s only you and Jun left to run the place, so Soonyoung is worried that we’ll have to close tonight. I told him that you and Jun can handle it on your own, though.”

“Of course we can,” Seungkwan says briskly. “Put me on speaker.”

“Okay,” Chan complies.

“Ye of little faith!” Seungkwan shouts into the receiver. “Have no worries, Hyung, everything will run smoothly! You can trust me and Jun! Now go the fuck to sleep!”

 

 

She’s been working at the Pink Dive for over a year now, and July far longer than that, so they know the ropes well enough, despite Soonyoung’s fretting. Chan even manages to recruit one of his friends, Wonho, to fill a slot in the drag performance that night, which lessens their load considerably. Miss One Hoe is received well by the crowd, and things run smoothly, July taking a position behind the bar when they’re at their busiest point of the night.

“Excuse me?” A man taps on her shoulder to get her attention whilst she’s out on the dance floor, and she turns to see a guy in a baseball cap and facemask, simple black clothes not particularly fit for clubbing. “I’m looking for the owner of this club? Your patron directed me to you.” The man points over to Samuel, one of their regulars who’s almost certainly too young to be here, but he’s always so sweet, and they keep a close eye on him anyway. He smiles brightly and waves to Tangerina.

She waves back kindly. “Come with me,” she shouts over the music. Whatever this man wants to discuss, she doesn’t want to do it in the middle of the bar. She leads him through club into their backroom, figures she might as well get ready while they talk, as she’s due on stage soon.

“Is something the matter, sir?” she says, picking up the mic pack and fiddling with the battery, but making sure to pay attention to him. He’s broad, and a few inches taller than her, but she matches him in her heels, and looks him squarely in the eye.

“I’m Jay, from Ossu Seiromushi, the restaurant across the road? You have some lights outside the front of your club that shine directly onto one of our tables. We were hoping to come to a compromise about changing them?”

She’s heard Soonyoung grumble about this restaurant often before, but only occasionally had the pleasure of dealing with the poor waiters they send over every week to complain about the lights outside. It’s a popular restaurant, which they put down to the fact that it’s owned by the brother of Kim Seokjin, a popular idol from a rising boy group. As BTS gain more popularity, the restaurant only gains more traffic, and the workers just keep coming back to ask about the lights. “They’re homophobic assholes who don’t want us to be seen from their expensive-ass restaurant,” Soonyoung likes to complain. “I’m not changing my fucking lights.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not the regular owner of the club. I’m standing in for him today, as he’s sick, so I can’t do much to help you without deferring to him.” She hooks the mouth mic around her ear, pulling her dress down a little and giving herself a last check in the mirror. “You’re welcome to stay for the performance, though.” She gives him a little smile before directing him back into the main room. July is already at the sound system, ready to support her performance, so she steps up onto the stage and calls for the crowd’s attention, hoping the man won’t try to bother July too.

She spots him again when she’s halfway through 4Minute’s Crazy, watching her intently from the bar. She gives him a little wink and a twirl. When he’d been speaking, his voice seemed kind of familiar, but she can’t think where she might know him from, and it’s hard to make out his face under the mask and dim club lights. Oh well. She hopes he’s enjoyed the performance.

 

-

 

Jay comes back the next night, still in his cap and mask, but this time in a white t-shirt instead of black. Exciting.

He’s on a mission again, clearly looking around for someone to complain to. Soonyoung is back on his feet, still sniffly, but strong enough that Chan can’t physically keep him in his bed anymore, so they figure he’s well enough to handle some light management work. The whole family is in tonight anyway, working to make sure Soonyoung doesn’t overdo it.

“He came by yesterday,” she tells Soonyoung, gesturing to Jay. “He’s from the restaurant.”

“For fucks sake,” Soonyoung scowls, and turns away to pointedly ignore him, but Jay has already recognised Rina, as she’s wearing the same wig as yesterday. He heads their way, and she tries to pretend she hasn’t noticed.

“Hello again,” he says politely, a little glint in his eye as if he knows exactly what they’d just said. “Is the owner back today?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Soonyoung sighs. “I’m sorry, but the lights are directed at the wall of your restaurant, not the window. There’s nothing else I can do with them without turning them to face our walls instead, making them useless.”

“I’ve heard this is a long-standing discussion between our establishments,” Jay says, and Rina can’t tell if he’s laughing at them, or if he naturally speaks like everything is funny. “So I’ve come with a proposal.”

“Oh?” she says, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” he says, looking back at her. “A deal, you could say. A meal at the restaurant for you, on the house, at the table affected by the lights. If you can eat happily without a problem, we won’t come to complain anymore. If not, you guys can change the lights, find a solution that makes us both happy.”

Rina and Soonyoung look at each other, and Soonyoung shrugs. “Have you eaten tonight?” he asks.

“No, I didn’t have time after work,” she replies.

Soonyoung tuts at her. “You might as well get a free meal, then, and end our argument while you’re at it. I really should stay here, though.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’ve already performed, and we have the place covered between us. Diva will kill me if I move from her line of sight. Go and have some expensive food,” he says, touching her back lightly to nudge her towards Jay.

“I’ll be back!” she calls to him as she follows Jay through the crowd towards the exit. Soonyoung just waves after her.

When they step out into the freezing Seoul winter, she wishes she’d grabbed her coat, even if they are only going over the road. She’s in a little red dress today, one that leaves her arms and legs bare to the biting wind. The cold is distracting enough to take her mind away from the fact that she’s left the safety of the club, about to go and eat a meal with a stranger at the fanciest restaurant she’s ever been to, still dressed in full drag.

“Can you let my brother know we’re here?” Jay says to the doorman, and the doorman nods, calling over one of the waiters. Jay continues to lead her through the restaurant and up to the second floor, sitting them both down at a table in the corner, by the window. Upon sitting down, she immediately notices their light, a dazzling beam in her peripheral vision, but doesn’t mention it, willing to see if she can make it through the meal ignoring it. She has to preserve some dignity for her club, after all.

“Are you eating with me?” she asks, surprised.

“If that’s okay with you,” he replies, voice lightly teasing.

“Don’t you work here?” she’s perplexed. He isn’t a waiter? Who exactly is this guy?

“Ah… I’m more of a co-owner than a worker,” he explains, pulling down his facemask for the first time and looking at her from underneath his cap.

“You’re the… co-owner…” she trails off as she looks him in the face, and realises what he means by that. She’s sitting across from none other than Kim Seokjin himself, who’d given himself the chair that faces the corner of the room, so only she can see his face.

Her first reaction is panic—oh God, she’s sitting across from one of the most handsome idols in the industry right now—before regaining her composure, sitting up straight in her seat and plucking the menu from the table, trying to look unaffected.

“Do you often use your celebrity influence to strike deals with other businesses?” she asks, hoping it sounds the right amount of playful.

“It’s my Hyung’s favourite bargaining chip,” Seokjin replies, “but I prefer not to use it if I don’t have to. Do you often use sudden performances to get out of conversations?”

She puts her tongue in her cheek and looks at him over the top of the menu. “I was lined up to perform at that time, I’ll have you know. Besides, I was telling you the truth. I’m a performer there, not the owner.”

“Do you perform there often?” he asks.

“Three nights a week. I’m a regular.”

“I’ve obviously been missing out, then,” he says, before calling over a waiter and ordering them a brand of wine she’s never even heard of.

Is Kim Seokjin flirting with her? Her day has taken a very unexpected turn over the last five minutes. She can feel her stomach roll over with nerves, her mind too overloaded with information to come up with a good response.

“What do you fancy?” he asks, looking at his own menu.

“What’s good?” she asks. She likes Japanese cuisine, so she’s heard of a few of these items, but some of the dishes are more expensive than her month’s rent, and she daren’t ask what they consist of.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve only eaten here once,” he says. “Hard to come here when this is the one place people expect you to be. Udon is always a safe bet, though.”

“Alright. I’ll have the Udon, then.”

Seokjin calls over the waiter again and asks for two portions of Udon for their table. The light really is getting on her nerves now—it’s one that revolves through the colours of the rainbow, a subtle hint as to what sort of club the Pink Dive is, and every time it turns to yellow she has to squint to be able to see Seokjin. The purple and blue make her feel like she’s losing her vision at the edges. Maybe they have a point about this damn light.

“So how long have you worked in the club?” he asks, taking a sip of the wine.

“Over a year,” she replies. “Ever since I moved to Seoul.”

“Oh? Where are you from?”

“Jeju Island.”

“Ah, I’ve never been. I hear it’s beautiful though.”

“Yeah, it is,” she smiles. “I miss it sometimes. Small place, though. Seoul has a lot more to offer. Gay bars and job opportunities and expensive restaurants that give you free meals.” She picks up her own wine glass, looking Seokjin in the eye. She’s trying to get a reaction from him—to figure out if he understands what the Pink Dive actually is, if he knows what _she_ is.

He doesn’t even blink, meeting her look steadily. “I can imagine. I’m from Gwacheon, and Seoul still seemed so much bigger when I first moved here.”

“It must seem small now that you’ve started jetting off to America for their awards shows.” She may be more of a girl group person, but it’s impossible to ignore the success BTS have been gaining over the last year, the records they’re breaking in Korea and overseas.

Seokjin looks a little bashful at that, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands on his lap. “Not small, so much. But it does make you realise how big the world is.”

“And you’ve seen so much of it,” Rina says, wistfully. She’s always been envious of idols for being able to see the world and perform for it at the same time. It sounds like a dream.

“I’ve certainly seen many, many dressing rooms,” he replies.

Their dishes arrive then, and Rina tucks in, the sight of the food suddenly making her realise how hungry she is. They’re silent for a few minutes, slurping away at their noodles, and she must admit; it is excellent food.

“Do you have any music released?” Seokjin asks out of the blue, and she swallows her mouthful quickly.

“Do I what?”

“You’re a great singer,” Seokjin says, straightforward as ever. “Singing that stably whilst doing full choreography—idols train for years to do it that well. Did you teach yourself?”

“Oh,” she says, cheeks heating a little. “Yes, I suppose so. I had some singing lessons growing up, but I’ve always loved performing for fun, so I taught myself a lot of choreographies.”

“So no original music?”

“I put covers online sometimes, or post good videos from performances. Nothing professional, though.”

“Shame. You should look into it. Can I have your social media?” He pulls out his phone and looks at her expectantly.

She stares at him, taking out her phone slowly. She pulls up her Instagram, shows it to him, and he starts typing in her username.

“You do realise who I am, right?” she asks, done with dancing around the topic. “You know what the Pink Dive is?” She could cause a scandal for him just by mentioning his name online, just by the suggestion that he’d spoken to her today. Yet here he is, eating a meal with her, asking for her social media.

“Actually, you never told me your name,” he points out.

“Tangerina,” she says. “My friends call me Rina.”

“In that case, I do know, Rina. And I’m guessing you know what it’s like to have people keep your secrets for you. So I trust you with this one.” Her account pings with a follower notification. “That’s me. Are you done with the meal?”

She looks at her phone to see the blank account with a keyboard smash of a username that has just followed her, and follows it back. “Yeah, I think I’m done.”

“I’ll walk you back to the club, then,” he says, standing. “I hope you enjoyed it, despite the lights.”

“It was delicious, thank you,” she says, standing too. “Despite how awful those lights are. I’ll talk to Soonyoung about that. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to get it sorted out.”

“Was it my celebrity influence that persuaded you? Or my charm?” he asks, playfully. He has a cheeky, dumb smile on his face that makes him look infuriatingly cute.

“It was the food, actually. Give my thanks to your brother.” She shoots him a smile of her own, turning to lead the way out of the restaurant.

 

-

 

The next few weeks span the Christmas and New Year period, so both of his jobs keep him busy, but that doesn’t stop him from binging all the BTS content he can find in his spare time. He knew a lot of their music already, but this time around he focuses a lot on Seokjin. They’re quite alike, he thinks- Seokjin is funny and bright and a born performer, which are all compliments he’s been given himself. He’s a great vocalist and a good dancer, and very, very handsome. He’s still reeling from being in his presence, honestly.

He's bursting with the news and spills all to Soonyoung and Diva right after the meal, tells Jinseol about the encounter when he gets back home. He’s wary of saying too much, though, and swears them all to secrecy, anxious not to give Seokjin any trouble with rumours. Seokjin had been right—Seungkwan does understand the importance of trusting people to keep your secrets, to protect your identity, and he knows how rumours can spread like wildfire.

Which is why he thinks he must be going crazy when he hears Seokjin’s voice at work, during a long café shift in the middle of January. It’s coming from a table in the corner—check—where a man with a baseball cap and facemask—check—is facing the wall of the room, talking to another man Seungkwan doesn’t recognise. He lingers around the end of the counter, pretending to arrange the muffins there so he can hear them better.

“I asked you to go and threaten them with a lawsuit, not get yourself a date,” the unknown man is saying.

“Yes, but Hyung, didn’t it work? They moved the lights?” Yeah, that’s definitely Seokjin. Why the fuck is he here, at Seungkwan’s tiny café?

“Yeah, and you’re lucky no one caught a picture of you with the guy,” Seokjin’s brother says.

He must be visiting his Hyung again, back after a long winter of awards shows and performances. And they’re talking about Seungkwan. Fuck.

“Don’t worry about it, Hyung. I’m a pro at this thing now. No one sees me unless I want them to. I’m like a fly on the wall.”

“Yes, no one except the guy you had food with.”

“She was understanding, and there’s been no news about it, has there? So I’d call it a success!”

He can see Wonwoo making a beeline for their table—the brothers are sitting in their section of the café—and Seungkwan walks towards them quickly.

“Wonwoo, can I swap my table by the window for your table in the corner?”

Wonwoo looks at him strangely, startled by the sudden request. “Sure?”

“Thank you, love you, going to tell Hansol to buy you the best birthday present.”

“My birthday isn’t until… July…”

Seungkwan pats their arm and smiles distractedly, already picking out his notepad and walking towards the table.

“Hi there. Can I get you guys anything?”

“Yes, can I have a coffee with the apple pie?” Seokjin’s brother says.

“I’ll have the pink lemonade with some lemon drizzle cake, please,” Seokjin says, and looks up at him under his cap. Seungkwan looks back at him for a second, waiting for the recognition—but it doesn’t come. He has to stop himself from laughing out loud; Seokjin has only met Tangerina, after all. Never Seungkwan.

“Coming right up, gentlemen.”

He’s distracted for his whole shift, keeps wandering over to their table even though it’s on the other side of the room from his section, just to see if they go back to talking about him. He knows Wonwoo and even his laid-back manager Hyerin both notice it, but he can’t help himself—he’s been thinking about the meal with Seokjin for weeks, and now the guy is eating his food in his café, talking about him. Seokjin still remembers him. His brother had called it a _date_.

He goes over again when they’ve both finished, ask if they want anything else, and takes their payment when they say they don’t. Seokjin leaves a very generous tip, and if he hadn’t known him to be a millionaire idol, he would’ve run after him to return it. As it is, he just takes the money and watches them leave, bringing the cash over to their shared tips jar.

“Did you rob those guys?” Changkyun asks, staring with disbelief at the wad of notes he’s trying to shove into the jar.

“Woah,” Wonwoo says, coming up behind Seungkwan. “Is that from the table you swapped with me, Kwannie?”

“Was it an idol?” Changkyun asks.

He might as well tell them. It’s not like Seokjin was here for him. “Yeah. Kim Seokjin and his Hyung.”

“What?” Hyerin squawks from her end of the counter. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I just wanted to let them eat their food!” Seungkwan defends, finally managing to squash all of the cash into the jar.

“Fuck, Kim Seokjin was in our café,” she says, staring at the now empty table. “No one wipe the table down. We can probably sell those cake crumbs online.”

 

 

He messages Seokjin’s secret Instagram when his shift finishes. He knows he won’t be able to stop thinking about it otherwise, and the worst that can happen is he doesn’t get a reply. It’s worth a try.

_Hyung, do you want to see a magic trick?_

He gets a reply a few hours later, when he’s in the middle of picking out an outfit for that night’s performance.

 _Y_ _ou can do magic too? Multitalented, I see_

He smiles down at his phone, abandoning his wardrobe to type out a reply.

_I can tell you one item of food you’ve eaten today, through telepathy._

Seokjin answers almost immediately. _Alright. Go ahead_

_My magic senses are feeling for answers…. Lemon drizzle cake, at the Seventeen café earlier today._

He doesn’t get a reply for a few minutes, and he’s worried he’s weirded Seokjin out. In retrospect, maybe this wasn’t the best way to start a conversation. He’s just about to apologise when he sees Seokjin’s typing bubble wiggling again.

_Did my face awe you that much in December that you’ve become my number 1 stalker?_

He laughs, relieved Seokjin is still talking to him, but eager to explain himself.

 _Actually, I was going to ask if you’re stalking me, Hyung._ He attaches a selfie—one of Seungkwan, not Tangerina—and waits for Seokjin to make the connection. The typing bubble wiggles at him again, then stops, then does that a few times, so Seungkwan goes back to picking out clothes while he waits.

 _THAT WAS YOU_ Seokjin types eventually. _It is you, right? I really didn’t recognise you_

_Haha yeah, you’ve now found me at both my jobs. Should I get a restraining order?_

_If you do, I won’t be able to come and see you perform again :(_

He pauses, rereads the message, then reads it again to make sure he’s understood it correctly. _You’re coming to see me perform?_

_I had a free day today, as you already know. I was going to swing by tonight, undercover of course_

_Undercover huh? I like it. We can both be our secret identities for the night._

_I’ll see you then, Rina_

_See you, Jay._

 

She doesn’t want to admit it, but she starts scouring the club as soon as she arrives, keeping alert for any sight of Seokjin. Her set is scheduled to be the first for the night, and she’s worried he might not get here in time to see it. Jeonghan and Joshua have also come to see her perform tonight, so she’s trying not to seem too distracted, but Jeonghan can read her like a book.

“Are we waiting for someone else, Rina?”

“Oh, my friend said he’d come and see me,” she says vaguely, trying not to look over Jeonghan’s shoulder towards the door of the club.

“Friend huh?” Joshua asks, picking up on the situation. Of everyone, why did these two have to be here tonight?

“Yes, a friend, we’ve only met, like, twice.”

“Oh, he’s going to be more than a friend after he sees her performance tonight,” July says, appearing from nowhere, that nosy bitch. Jeonghan and Joshua make appropriate jeering noises.

“Hey! No spoilers!” she says, waggling her finger in reprimand. July is the only one here who knows what Rina has planned tonight, because she’d asked for her help to prepare, along with Diva, who’d watched and provided her encouragement during practise. She thinks Hoshi might have an idea, as she’d informed her she’ll be needing the other stage, but she’s trying to keep it under wraps, put on a little surprise. It was by lucky chance that Seokjin said he would come by tonight of all nights, and she can only hope he arrives in time.

The club is starting to fill up, and she can feel Hoshi’s eyes on her from across the bar, silently asking her to get ready for the performance. She doesn’t want to cause a bother by pushing it back, and she’s asked Diva to film it anyway, so Kim Seokjin be damned, she’ll get up there and show everyone what she’s got.

She starts with Red Velvet’s Red Flavour, a fun warm up to get the crowd dancing, and goes into Twice’s TT, another song well known and much loved by her audience. She finally spots Seokjin during the second chorus, standing in the shadows by the tables. She can’t see his face well from here, but she knows Seokjin will be able to see her well under all the stage lights—it would be hard to miss the sequinned pink number she’s wearing today—so she gives her best smile and ends the song well. She’s just happy that he’s arrived in time; she’s about to go into her new song, the one she’s been practising hard with Jun during all her free time this week. After School’s First Love, a sensual song made famous by none other than its pole dancing choreography.

She starts to climb the pole as the opening notes play, just as Jun had shown her, gripping firm and completing some smooth spins. The crowd start to understand what’s going on, recognise the song maybe, and become restless, cheering and hooting for her. She keeps the moves simple—it takes a ridiculous amount of upper body strength that she barely possesses to stay up there for any extended period of time—and sticks to the floor for as much of the song as she can, leaves the pole completely to do the chorus choreography. The point dance, a sharp sway of the hips, gets the reception she was looking for, but she only looks at Seokjin. Holds his attention as she flicks her long hair over her shoulder and moves back towards the pole, leaning against it to support her through the choreography of the next verse.

She climbs back up onto it for the last verse, twirling while the _na na na_ hook plays through the track, grateful for that particular part of the song, as it’s near impossible to hold a note whilst tensing her body around the pole. She finishes with one leg hitched up, gripping onto the pole firmly to suspend her in the air. She feels like she could fall at any second, but the cheers of the audience give her the confidence to land back on her heels without a fault. She tries to play it cool, shoot them a confident smirk, but she’s so pleased with herself for pulling off the song that she can’t help but break out into a big smile. She can see Seokjin clapping, still hidden in shadows. She flicks her hair over her shoulder again, and starts to speak to the crowd for a minute to give herself a break before she moves onto KARA’s Mamma Mia. She can see Hoshi clapping from her seat next to Jeonghan, and Joshua wolf whistling for her at his other side. Idiot.

 

 

She makes her way backstage after the performance, desperate for some water after the set of twelve songs in a row. July is back there getting ready for her own show, and she congratulates her on the performance.

“You were on form! Honestly, you did so good considering you learned it so quickly, Rina.”

“Are you sure? No mistakes?” she asks.

“Looked flawless to me! It’ll catch his eye, for sure.”

She slaps July on the arm. “Can you shut up? I didn’t even know he was coming tonight until, like, two hours ago!”

“You’d better get out there and make sure he doesn’t run away, then!” she replies, shoving a bottle of water into her hand and pushing her through the backstage door. “Can you let Hoshi know I’m ready?”

Despite July’s annoying perseverance, she stops by their table to pass the message on to Hoshi, and receives a few more compliments on the way. Jeonghan, however, immediately bombards her with questions, so she slips away from his curiosity under the guise of grabbing them more drinks.

While she’s at the bar, she feels someone hovering at her elbow, and turns to see Seokjin there, head down and cheeks pulled into a smile under his face mask.

“Good job up there. You put on quite a show.”

“Wouldn’t you know a thing or two about that?” she says, looking over at him.

“I suppose I do.”

Her drinks order is put in front of her, and she looks down at the four glasses. Seokjin grabs two for her, so she has no choice but to grab the other two and lead him back to the table.

“I’m sorry in advance for my friends,” she mutters to him as they approach. “Everyone, this is Jay,” she says loudly, before Jeonghan can say anything. Seokjin says a quiet hello and puts the drinks on the table.

“Hello—” Joshua starts, but she doesn’t trust him either, so she grabs Seokjin by the hand and says,

“We’re going to dance now and then probably leave, so you can have my drink! Bye!” Before pulling him onto the dancefloor without room for argument.

An energetic song is playing, causing the crowd around them to jump and sing enthusiastically, which she can get down with. Seokjin needs a little more time to warm up, but by the time Peek-A-Boo comes on he’s headbanging enthusiastically, his handsome poise lost as he throws his whole body into the dance, flailing his arms and making Rina laugh so much she can’t focus on her own dancing. She mimics his move, because what the hell, if Kim Seokjin can do it, she can dance like a crazy person in her own club too. It feels silly, but she doesn’t really care, though she knows they must look like a strange pair out on the dancefloor like this. Seokjin’s cap nearly comes flying off when he gets too enthusiastic, and he jolts up straight to grasp at it, making them both laugh. He goes back into his exaggerated dancing, this time clutching at his hat as he does.

At that point she notices Jeonghan and Joshua, who are dancing together, not too far away from them. There was no point trying to hide this from them, really, and at this point she has to admit defeat and accept that she and Jay will be the talk of her friendship group by tomorrow morning at the latest. Time to get out of here, then.

“Hey, are you hungry?” she shouts over the throbbing music, bringing Seokjin out of his flailing.

“Not really,” he shouts back.

“Too bad,” she replies. “I’m starving. Let’s get out of here?”

Seokjin nods, eyes laughing, and they both head towards the cloakroom to pick up their coats. It’s still below freezing temperatures in Seoul, so she offers him one of her heat packs when they step outside, which he takes gratefully.

“Where are we going?” he asks, as she takes his arm to lead him down the street.

“There’s a good all-night diner down the road. I could really do with a burger.”

“Oh, you really are hungry? Not just getting away from your friends?”

“Well,” she shrugs. “A bit of both. Jeonghan is a good Oppa, but a very mischievous friend.”

“And his dance moves have nothing on mine,” Seokjin declares.

“Absolutely. I’ve never met anyone who dances like you do, much less an idol.”

They turn into a busier street, and Seokjin pulls his cap down further. “It’s all part of my undercover disguise. Jin is the main dancer of Bangtan, but Jay is the worst dancer you’ve ever seen.”

“Genius,” Rina remarks, fighting a smile. “A guaranteed way to keep your cover. Doesn’t draw attention to you at all.” She pushes the door to the diner open—there’s only a handful of people in here, mostly nocturnal students and drunken clubbers gorging on fries and milkshakes. She gets more looks than Seokjin does as they come in and take a table.

“You know Seoul pretty well, considering you’ve only been here a year,” Seokjin remarks. “I didn’t even know this was here.”

“Nearly a year and a half,” she corrects. “I suppose it’s easier for me to explore the streets than it would be for you. Out of drag, I’m just an ordinary, straight-passing citizen. Or maybe you do get around? I was surprised that you were in my café today, frankly.”

“It makes sense to go to smaller places rather than expensive ones. Paparazzi camp outside of high-end places and wait for celebrities. Local café’s fly under the radar, in most cases. I don’t know how we managed to pick your café of all places, though.” Seokjin looks perplexed by his own actions. “I swear I didn’t stalk you. It must be fate, or something.”

“Fate?” Rina asks, fluttering her eyelashes deliberately.

“Or something,” Seokjin corrects, and she laughs.

The waiter comes over to take their order. They ask for burgers and milkshakes, and Rina eyes him up when the waiter walks away.

“I thought you weren’t hungry?”

“I’d never say no to food,” Seokjin remarks. “Jungkook will eat the leftovers if I have any.”

“BTS keep leftovers? Aren’t you too rich for that?”

“We’re still getting our heads around earning money,” Seokjin says. “The others still make me buy their meals, like they don’t have the cash to spare.”

“Don’t you want to be a good Hyung, though?”

“I would be a good Hyung if they were good Dongsaengs!” he says, indignant. “I live with six babies.”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t one of them,” she teases.

“If that’s the case, why do I always have to buy their food?” he complains.

They talk for a while, their food comes, and they talk some more. Rina finds it easy—their worlds are at once miles apart and surprisingly similar, and they can bond over learning choreography, over singing and messing about with friends, swap stories about their work, their life. Her drag family can all sing beautifully, but they’re more passionate about dance than anything, so it’s amazing to talk with another vocalist about their favourite songs from the year, about what they love to perform, about what’s a little harder to sing well.

The waiter cuts them off by coming back over with the bill. It’s near two AM already, and she’s not sure where her night went.

Seokjin, despite all his complaining, insists on paying. “I may be sick of being a good Hyung, but I don’t get to be a good Oppa often,” he explains.

As they leave, he also takes the liberty of calling them both a car.

“Oh, I’m used to walking back at this time,” Rina protests. “I know all the well-lit streets and everything.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t give you a lift back anyway,” Seokjin insists, huddling close to her as they wait for the car to arrive. She hides a smile in the collar of her coat.

“Can I meet you sometime?” he asks, and she looks up at him again, confused. “I only know Tangerina,” he explains. “I met you briefly in the café, but—not really, you know?”

The butterflies in her stomach jump into life. He wants to meet up again? More importantly, he wants to meet Seungkwan?

“We’re the same person, you know,” she teases. “Rina and Seungkwan.”

Seokjin flushes. “Yes, I know, but—you know…”

“I’m teasing,” she laughs. “I get it. What does a person like you do for fun?”

Seokjin shrugs. “Eat, but we’ve already done that twice. Movies? Games?”

These sound like very date-y ideas to her. Not that she’s complaining. “How about the arcade for games, then back to my place for movies?” If it means she’ll have to chase Jinseol out of the flat, so be it. More than anything, she wants to talk with Seokjin again, which is easier done in privacy, than in a movie theatre.

“Sounds like a plan,” he confirms. “We have more awards show schedules until the end of January, so is it okay if I message you the next time I have a free day?”

“Of course,” she agrees. The car pulls up, and they climb in, sitting in content quiet as it drives along the night-time Seoul roads. Seokjin gets out at her stop, asks the car to wait, and meets her just as she’s opening the door on her side. He reaches out his hand to help her out of the car, and kisses the back of her hand when she’s stood up in front him. It takes her by surprise, and she looks down at her hand, then back up at him.

“Goodnight, Rina.”

“Goodnight, Seokjin.”

He lets go of her hand with a smile and slips back into the car. As it pulls away, it’s hard to stop herself from skipping all the way up to her flat, a broad smile stretching her cheeks.

 

-

 

Unsurprisingly, the first thing she sees the next morning is a message in the group chat from Jeonghan, asking their friendship group to meet up that day. Joshua replies at once, which convinces Seungkwan that they’re scheming together. Seokmin agrees quickly, because Seokmin will agree to anything anyone suggests, and when Jihoon messages his own confirmation a few minutes later, he knows he’s done for.

 _Great,_ Jeonghan says. _We’ll meet up at the SVT café so it’s easy for Kwannie to sit with us after his shift :)_

Goddamn you, Yoon Jeonghan.

 

 

They do just as promised, even sitting at a table in his section so that he can’t miss them. Jeonghan keeps shooting him knowing looks every time he comes over to take their orders, or deliver drinks and food, and if Seungkwan had any power at this place, he would’ve kicked them out the moment they’d arrived. He even ends up working half an hour overtime to avoid them. It’s only when Jeonghan looks ready to wrangle him into his seat does he hang up his apron and clock out, picking up a mint tea on his way to the table.

“Okay, Hyung, you win,” he relents. “What are you here to interrogate me about?”

“Nothing, Seungkwannie!” Jeonghan replies, his sickly sweet indignance making Seungkwan raise his eyebrows and sip at his tea, waiting. “Just to congratulate you on your performance last night. When did Jun teach you all that?”

“We met up before opening time, a couple of days this week,” he explains, pulling a face. The tea is still piping hot. “I’ve wanted to try performing that song for a while. He was willing to help me out.”

“Will you be doing it again?” Seokmin asks earnestly. “I want to come and see it!”

Seungkwan shrugs, though a little flattered by the reception. “Probably. I’ll let you know when. How is your course going?” he asks Seokmin, eager to move the topic of conversation away from himself.

“Oh, it’s good!” Seokmin says.

“Almost as good as your love life,” Joshua intercepts smoothly. Seungkwan glares at him, but Joshua just smiles back. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh?” Jihoon perks up. “Seungkwan has a boyfriend?”

“No,” Seungkwan protests, but he can barely get a word out between Seokmin’s exclamations and Jeonghan’s noises of confirmation. “He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Not yet?” Joshua asks.

“I mean—I don’t—"

“You were dancing very close for people who aren’t at least interested,” Jeonghan remarks.

“What’s his name?” Seokmin asks, leaning forward as if he might miss the answer otherwise.

Seungkwan pauses for a moment, not sure how much he can tell them. “Jay,” he says, just to be safe.

“Jay?” Jihoon says.

“A mysterious name for a mysterious man,” says Joshua.

“Yes,” Jeonghan agrees. “A mysteriously secretive man considering he’s so handsome. Handsome enough to be an idol.”

With the way he looks at Seungkwan as he says that, steady gaze under long lashes, Seungkwan knows he’s figured it out. Faster than Seungkwan has been, he’d recognised Seokjin even under the disguise. He shouldn’t have underestimated Jeonghan’s sharp eyes.

The rest of the table watch them as they stare at each other, daring the other to speak first.

“Were you going to tell us?” Jeonghan asks eventually, and that makes him break.

“It’s not like I didn’t want to tell you,” Seungkwan gushes immediately. “Of course, I was dying to tell everyone that I met Kim Seokjin! He took me for an expensive meal and complimented my dancing, and I couldn’t believe it really happened, but I was worried that if I told anyone, something could get out about it, you know? It’s not that I don’t trust you guys, I know you could keep it a secret if I asked, but things still manage to get out, and we’re talking about his privacy and my privacy, and his image too, because God knows what the media would say if they found out we’re seeing each other—”

“Seungkwannie!” Jeonghan interrupts. “It’s okay. We’re not mad. Just excited for you.”

“Kim Seokjin? You’re not joking?” Seokmin asks, his voice suddenly an octave higher. “He took you for a meal?”

“And I took him for one, and he wants to watch movies together,” Seungkwan says, putting one hand to his forehead. It sounds crazy, but it is nice to let it all out—he hasn’t had the chance to speak to Soonyoung or Jinseol about last night, and saying it out loud makes it more real. “I can’t really believe it myself, to be honest.”

“Only you could be doing something like dating Kim Seokjin and keeping it an anxious secret,” Jihoon remarks, shaking his head.

“Did you see the video?” Jeonghan asks.

Seungkwan blinks at him. “Video?”

Joshua holds up his phone. It’s showing a ten second video—someone’s social media update, a video showing their friend dancing to Super Junior. Under the dim lights, he can just make out the interior of the Pink Dive.

“What am I looking at?” he asks. He doesn’t recognise the woman in the video, or the username on the screen.

“The person in the back,” Joshua says.

Seungkwan peers closer as the video plays again, and he sees it this time—a grainy Seokjin is visible in the back of the video, doing his crazy flailing dance moves. Seungkwan can hear his own laughter too, though he’s cut out of the shot. He feels his blood run colder as he looks at Joshua.

“It’s been circulating twitter since last night,” he explains. “A bunch of BTS fans arguing between themselves as to whether this is him or not. The video is tagged with the club, so they want to know if it’s evidence of him being at a gay club, or just someone who looks like him.” He shrugs. “No one can really confirm anything, though.”

“Have there been reports or anything?” he asks anxiously.

“No, I don’t think so. Just netizen chatter. As long as you’re both careful, you’ll be fine.”

Seungkwan sits back in his chair and puts a hand over his racing heart. “Oh, thank God.”

“When are you meeting him again? Would he want to meet the rest of us?” Seokmin asks.

“I would love to introduce him to you guys. I don’t know when we’re meeting again, though. His group have a load of schedules this month, so I’m waiting on him to message me with a date.”

“That’s understandable, but don’t let him call all the shots all the time, Seungkwannie,” Jeonghan advises. “You are a strong, independent woman, after all.”

“You’re damn right I am,” Seungkwan says, taking a drink from his finally cooled tea.

 

-

 

He and Seokjin message a little, mostly at early hours of the morning after they’re done with performing or practicing. Seokjin always makes sure he’s arrived home safely; Seungkwan always asks if he’s eaten enough that day. They fall into a familiar pattern, into conversation so comfortable that it almost startles him when Seokjin asks to meet up for their arcade plans one weekend. His group are now officially on a rest for a short time before comeback preparations take up their time, so Seokjin is visiting his family, his pets, and all the friends he can get in touch with, and apparently Seungkwan is included somewhere in these categories. It’s not that he hadn’t believed Seokjin would follow through with their plans, but it’s still a little nerve-wracking to realise that he’s actively pursuing this; that he’s worth the time of someone so busy and important, with all his friends and all his world-changing activities to be doing.

Thankfully, they arrange to meet on a Monday, when Jinseol has long hours of rehearsals for her new production and Seungkwan doesn’t have to be at the Pink Dive, so they’ll have the flat to themselves for the evening. They go to the G-Plex, a huge building crammed with restaurants and rooms full of arcade games, VR simulators and laser tag. They agree to meet outside the big arcade hall, and it doesn’t take him long to spot Seokjin, wearing his regular undercover attire and focusing on his phone as Seungkwan approaches. He ruffles at his own hair nervously, then decides, fuck it, and starts walking towards him with Rina-level confidence. When he gets close enough for his presence to be noticed, Seokjin looks up from his phone and smiles at him warmly.

“Hello, there. I’m Kim Seokjin.” He holds out a hand, cute crooked fingers waiting for their first meeting. Seungkwan smiles at him and shakes his hand.

“Hi, Seokjin. I’m Boo Seungkwan.”

“Seungkwannie, it’s wonderful to meet you,” he says sincerely, grasping Seungkwan’s hand between both of his and shaking it vigorously. Seungkwan laughs at him. “Are you ready to lose at the arcade games?”

“To lose? Hyung, you have another thing coming if you think I’m not about to win at all the penny pushers.”

“How is it even possible to win at the penny pushers?” Seokjin laughs, bemused.

“I don’t know, but I’m going to do it,” he replies, and pulls Seokjin into the building by the hand.

 

They race against each other on the racetrack simulators, and Seungkwan wins, despite Seokjin being the one who can actually drive; they shoot down some zombies, and Seokjin wins, which he suspects is through pure power of will and screaming at the screen. Seungkwan does in fact win at the penny pushers, as promised, by winning more tacky keyrings from the machines. His victory is marred by the fact that Seokjin manages to grab a plushie Totoro from a claw machine, earning him the better prize, even if he does give it to Seungkwan when they leave. He appreciates the gesture, anyway, and clutches it the whole way home.

They pick up takeout on their way back to his place, as Seungkwan is anxious enough for Seokjin to visit his tiny flat without trying to successfully cook for him too. As an idol from a wealthy family, he knows his two-bedroom flat can’t look like much, but it’s home to him. Seokjin is kind, though, complimenting their little attempts at decorating as they sit on the sofa and open their takeout bags.

“Do you live here alone?”

“No, I live with my older sister, Jinseol. She’s out rehearsing tonight.” Seungkwan tucks into his food readily, having been too nervous to eat much before their date.

“Rehearsing?” Seokjin asks, scooping out his own food.

Seungkwan nods around a mouthful. “She has a role in a musical coming up.”

“Oh, she acts?”

“Yeah, she studied musical theatre in university. Our whole family love to sing, and I suppose she took it a step further with the acting.”

“So did you, though. Take it a step further, I mean—you have a whole performance aspect with it.”

He tilts his head in acquiescence. “That’s true. We’re both kind of—you know, dramatic, proud, loud. My other sister finds us exhausting.” He smiles and picks up the remote for his shitty second-hand TV, just about capable of loading Netflix. “Is there anything you’d like to watch?”

“I don’t know. I only watch anime with Taehyung, these days. You pick something.”

“I don’t often watch movies either, honestly,” he shrugs, flicking through some of the movies. “I work two jobs trying to live in Seoul, and it takes me, like, two hours to get dressed for one of them. All my spare time goes towards my friends, and you.”

“And me?” Seokjin asks, looking at him.

Seungkwan resolutely stares at the screen, though he’s barely paying attention to the titles he’s scrolling through. “Yes, and you. Do you want to watch this one?”

It looks generic enough, the lead couple gazing at each other on the poster, the summary saying something about destiny and true love. Seokjin barely looks at it before agreeing, continuing to eat his food.

It turns out to be amazingly slow and boring, the main couple dancing around each other in an infuriating way without much interesting plot going on. They go back to talking instead, letting the movie play in the background and their empty pots sit on the table.

“Did all your schedules go well last month?”

“As well as we can hope for. No injuries, no mistakes, even if Jimin convinces himself he can’t do anything right. I count it as successful. You?”

“Well, you know. Had my stalker come and find me at my café, then nearly fell off a pole because he came to watch my performance, too. Other than that, a perfect winter.”

Seokjin’s face relaxes into a smile, and he plays along. “Oh, is that so? Are you still thinking about that restraining order?”

“Nah, he’s pretty good looking. I think I can stand to have him follow me around for a little longer.”

“Well that’s a relief,” Seokjin says, and Seungkwan is aware of how close they’re sitting. The room is dim from the little light of the setting sun, the glow of the TV screen, and the soft yellow haze of the streetlamps outside.

“Yeah?” Seungkwan breathes, looking at him so closely, warm eyes right there.

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, and leans in to kiss Seungkwan gently, cautiously, like he’s not quite sure it’s allowed. Seungkwan reciprocates immediately, lets him know that this is definitely allowed by pushing back into him with enthusiasm. He has one hand at the side of Seokjin’s head as he kisses him back, and the two of them are angled into each other on Seungkwan’s sofa, legs knocking together. One of Seokjin’s hands comes to rest at Seungkwan’s side, a warm pressure that sends tingles through his skin. They both change the angle of their heads in unison, going back into a warm, sweet kiss, the darkness of his flat and the movie protagonists their only witnesses.

 

-

 

BTS are thrown into comeback preparations after that, and Seungkwan is put on more shifts at the café, which is struggling to find another full-time worker to help him out. The two of them still find the time to talk, though, message everyday with fun stories or silly debates. Sometimes they just exchange a string of stickers, and it’s enough, for him. It gives him a thrill to know Seokjin is on the other side of Seoul, working or practising with his bandmates, but still thinking of him.

Seokjin even calls sometimes, out of the blue, says, “I have about four hours free, want to meet up?”. He’ll come and sit in Seungkwan’s section of the café and talk with him during his break, or hang out in his flat while he gets dressed for a performance, trying to convince Seokjin to come and dance with him. He’s cautious about coming back to the club, however much Seungkwan promises he can stay in the backroom, or sit in the corner with his friends, or stand in the darkest parts of the club.

“Big Hit caught wind of the video that went around a few months ago and told me not to go back, in case people go looking for me there.”

“And do you always do what your company tells you?”

“Almost never, actually. I’m more concerned about your club. If another video like that gets around, you’ll be flooded with straight people barging in to ask about me, rather than coming to see you and your family perform.”

“As long as they order a drink while they’re there, Hoshi would be glad for the custom. Besides, if it’s being recognised you’re worried about, I have just the thing for that,” he says, turning in his chair to face his boyfriend, holding up the makeup brush he’d just been using on himself. He can see Seokjin look at the brush, then back at his face, then put two and two together.

“No, I can’t do that,” he says quickly.

Seungkwan raises his eyebrows at him, unmoving. “Why not?”

“I just can’t!” Seokjin says, fidgeting.

“Scared, Hyung?”

“Me? Scared?” Seokjin shakes his head exaggeratedly, mock indigence in his voice. “Never!”

“Then go and pick out an outfit,” Seungkwan indicates towards his wardrobe. “Ideally something on the bigger side so you don’t stretch it out with your mile-wide shoulders.”

“Seungkwan!” Seokjin splutters.

“Hyung! No one will recognise you! I promise! You proved it yourself when you didn’t recognise me at the café three months ago,” he pouts, and he can see the moment it wins him over. The café card always works when he wants something.

“Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Only when it suits me,” Seungkwan smiles, going back to applying powder. “I think the long white dress would complement your figure, by the way.”

 

 

“Wow, you look great, Seokjin!” Jinseol says from the sofa as they’re getting ready to leave the flat, looking him up and down. He went for the white dress in the end, long blonde hair threaded with tiny flowers, and some low heels that he’s still managing to stumble in. She’d made sure to do heavy makeup, high eyebrows and thick eyeshadow, even though the look uses neutral summer colours. “Do you have a name?”

“Jay,” Seokjin huffs, adjusting his boobs.

“That’s a terrible drag name!” Rina scolds. We need something proper for you.”

“Lip Stick?” Jinseol suggests. “It’s your best feature.”

“Lip Dick?” Rina says.

“No!” Seokjin chokes.

“Lip and Hip?” Jinseol says.

“Then people will be singing that song at him all night, though.”

“Rina, I really think this is more your area than mine,” Seokjin protests weakly, pulling at one of the frills on his sleeve.

“Don’t be silly, you’re all dressed now, and I’m already late. Let’s go, we’ll think of something on the way.”

They take the elevator, because Rina knows that they’ll be here all night if she tries to make him take the stairs in those heels.

“I picked my name because I come from Jeju,” she explains, stepping in and pressing the ground floor button. “I wanted to represent my hometown, as it’s an important part of me. It’s something that makes me stand out compared to other queens, too, because a lot of them are from Seoul, or the surrounding areas. Think about a name you can identify with. What sort of things do you like?”

Seokjin is silent for a moment, then simply says,

“Mario.” The elevator dings as they arrive at the bottom level.

“No. Mario isn’t sexy,” Rina deadpans, taking him by the arm and stepping into the lobby, ignoring the receptionist who always stares at her and walking into the spring evening outside.

“Bowser is pretty sexy,” he protests, leaning against her for balance as they walk.

“Baby Bowser is a cute name,” she murmurs, in thought. “It would give me an excuse to call you Baby all night.”

“Baby Bowser is a child!” he says indignantly. “You can’t soil his name!”

“Okay then, what else do you have?”

“I have my sugar gliders.”

“Fish Cake? A little on the nose, but—”

“No!” Seokjin whines, and she laughs at him. “I was thinking of Sugar Gaydars.”

“Oh, that’s actually pretty good,” she says. “Won’t you be confused by the name Sugar? Or will you let Yoongi know you wear the name better?”

“That’s a good point,” he huffs. They turn into a busier street, now further into the city, and Rina ruffles Seokjin’s curls so they crowd closer around his face. Seokjin pushes the empty framed glasses further up his nose. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Have you always enjoyed wearing these sorts of clothes? Or is it an acquired taste?”

“I’ve always loved it! You have to get used to some things, but my sisters always let me use their clothes when I was growing up, so I became adjusted to the heels and fake lashes and stuff.”

They step off a curb, and Seokjin nearly stumbles. “This is certainly an eye-opening experience, but I can’t say I’m ready to do it again.”

“That’s okay. It’s not for everyone, but I think everyone should try it once. You’re doing well, Oppa, I swear!”

“Hey, shouldn’t I be Unnie, now?”

“Once we’ve finished your drag persona, yes, you will be.”

“Can I just pick a girl’s name?” he sighs. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Jasmine?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

 

 

Seokmin and Jihoon are here tonight, awaiting her arrival, as she’d promised to do the After School pole performance again for them. She sits Jasmine down with her friends, introduces her to them, and whispers in Seokmin’s ear when it’s clear he doesn’t really understand who she is. She’d spoken to Seokjin about disclosing their relationship to her friends and family; he’d said that he trusts her to tell those she can rely on. Everyone she has told since has been shocked and excited and blessedly private about it. Her friends know, and her close family, including her Ma. Mingyu hadn’t believed her at first, but had become very excited once she’d sent him a selfie of the two of them together. It’s a good feeling to know that this is her life; the overwhelming support of her family and friends, having her boyfriend going along with this silly plan just for her. She’s so lucky.

She leaves them to get acquainted as she goes to find Hoshi, let her know she’s here and ready to start her set whenever she’s needed to perform. Hoshi is already watching her approach as she walks over, glancing over Rina’s shoulder at where Jasmine is talking with an excited Seokmin and a laughing Jihoon.

“She cleans up well. Would’ve gone for something tighter to show off her figure, though.”

“So would I, but she’s out of her comfort zone as it is, and that’s the least revealing thing I own. We’re just testing it out for the night.”

Hoshi shrugs. “Fair enough. Are you ready to go up? You’re a little late, babe.”

“Sorry, she can barely walk in the heels,” Rina laughs. “Took twice as long to get here. The drag was my plan in the first place, so I think I need to make her more at ease with it. About that, actually—I was hoping to add something to my setlist today…”

 

 

Rina looks over to the table in the corner as she speaks to the crowd, taking a short break from performing after the First Love pole routine. Jasmine is sitting up straight in her seat, watching her, and she wants to tell her to relax a little, rest her arms, be more feminine to embody the outfit better.

“Up next, I have something new for you guys.” The crowd make appropriate anticipation noises, and she nods at them exaggeratedly. “That’s right. I’m known for girl group songs, but there was a particularly sexy song by Bangtan Sonyeondan out last year that was just too tempting for me…”

The audience cheer, and she gestures at Hoshi to start the song, staring right at Jasmine as the opening lines of Blood, Sweat and Tears begin. Jasmine starts laughing, full bodied, puts her face in her hands for a second then looks up again to watch Rina do the beginning choreography with sharp, practised moves. It’s more intense than a lot of the routines she’s done before, and powerful despite the sensuality of the moves, so she focuses on her dance for a moment, smiling to herself at the encouraging cheers of the crowd. She had planned it as an in-joke for herself and her friends, but with Jasmine here tonight, it was too good to pass up on the opportunity to make her smile. She hopes she likes it.

Only when Rina stills herself to do the first rap part, she notices Jasmine isn’t in her seat anymore, but instead pushing through the crowd to get to the stage.

“ _Peaches and cream, sweeter than sweet_ ,” she sings, body rolling as she watches Jasmine get closer to the front. When she gets to the edge of the stage, she stops for a second to look around, and Rina realises that she’s looking for the stage steps. It makes her smile wide, and on impulse she interrupts the choreography to come close to the edge of the stage and hold her hand out for her.

“Introducing my partner, Jasmine!” she says into her mic, and the crowd cheer, though they must have no idea what’s going on. Jasmine takes her hand and does a big step up onto the stage in a rather unfeminine way, but they both get back into the choreography quickly. The bridge part includes some floorwork, which is a little fiddly for Jasmine in her long dress, more so than for Rina in booty shorts. The chorus comes up, though, and they nail it, dancing in time even though they’ve never practised this together. Jasmine is a little hesitant at the first jump, but when she lands it well, does the second jumping spin with full confidence, and barely even stumbles. The audience let out loud whooping and whistling at the crotch-grabbing move, and she sees Jasmine get a little pink in the face. Blushing, even as an idol who’s performed this for millions, at concerts and music shows and awards performances. Cute.

Rina continues to sing the main parts while Jasmine follows her own parts in the choreography, and it works out pretty well. When it comes to Jasmine’s actual lines, Rina nudges her forwards, and she can hear her singing them even though she doesn’t have a mic on her. The crowd can just about hear her over the sound of the backing track playing, and cheer their praise, clearly not expecting such a pretty, strong voice. She can see Jasmine smiling out of the corner of her eye.

The last chorus comes up, and she throws herself into it, glad it’s just another instrumental and she doesn’t have to try and sing around the massive smile etched into her mouth. When they finish, the audience gives a standing ovation, and she takes Jasmine by the hand, leading her into a bow. She’s still pink in the face, but goes with it, adjusting her wig nervously and waving at the crowd.

“Go and sit down, babe, I’ll be done soon,” she shouts over the noise, pointing to the stage steps. Jasmine just nods and heads over to the side of the stage. Rina turns back to the crowd. “Can I have another round of applause for Jasmine, a fresh new queen who helped me give you that performance?” They cheer again obediently, and she winks at Jasmine cheekily as she tries to wave them off, flustered. “Alright, thanks guys. The energy is amazing tonight, thank you so much for that. Who’s ready for a more a recent release?” The crowd cheer with enthusiasm. “Yeah? Alright, then; here’s What is Love by Twice.”

 

-

 

He gets an invite to Seoul Pride that summer, a twenty-minute slot to perform on the main stage after the parade, in front of a crowd much bigger than he’s used to. He obviously accepts immediately, then worries about it for three months straight, asking everyone he knows what his best songs are, which ones are the most fun and most appropriate for the event, whether he should prepare much new content or rely on crowd favourites. By the time July rolls around, he has a perfect, well-polished set, and a lot of anxiety.

Seokjin is knee-deep in fan signs, anniversary activities, and preparations for his world tour, though Seungkwan knows it would’ve been out of the question for him to come to Pride anyway. He comes to see him the day before instead, kisses him all over and tells him he’ll do great, and Seungkwan insists he needs sex for stress relief. Seokjin doesn’t complain.

He gets a message from him the next morning too, cheering him on, along with messages from his friends, even though most of them are attending the event anyway. Hoshi has also been asked to perform (for her second year in a row), and when they’re backstage Seungkwan realises how many people in the community she seems to know, considering she never appears to leave her club.

She gets ready and sticks close by Hoshi’s side backstage, which she seems to take well, as she starts introducing her to everyone as her drag daughter. The more experienced queens wish her luck and coo over how young she is; the other newbies seem as nervous as she is.

The performance goes flawlessly, of course—she’d been overwhelmed by the size of the crowd at first, several hundred people watching in front of the stage with another thousand spanning back into the event space, milling about the stalls and standing together in the streets. She knows the sound system can be heard for a few blocks around too, and she’s been able to hear every note sung (or not sung) by other performers so far.

Her courage comes when she spots the crowd of her friends, bunched together off to the right—everyone from Tiana to Mingyu to Jinseol’s new girlfriend have come to see and support her and Hoshi. Even Seungcheol is staying in Seoul with Hansol, to get to know Wonwoo, apparently. It nearly makes her laugh, to see her first crush in the crowd, about to watch her slut drop for hundreds. Her friends cheer the loudest when she steps out, waving various flags and banners between them, Seokmin yelling her name in support. With her sisters and eleven of her friends in front of her, Hoshi a supportive presence backstage, she starts her set with confidence, greeting the crowd with all the charisma she possesses before going straight into Ddu-du Ddu-du. As soon as the music starts, she knows it’s a good choice, with the way people sing along with unbridled enthusiasm.

 

She comes out into the crowd afterwards, mostly so she can properly watch Hoshi’s set, still high on the thrill of being watched, being liked, being cheered for by that many people. She’d had good reactions the whole set, made no mistakes, and come away from it buzzing with energy. It takes her at least fifteen minutes to find her friends, though, as she keeps being stopped by people congratulating her, or pulling her to the side to take a picture, despite the no-photography rule technically in place. Still, she makes sure they have no one else in the background and consents gladly. Diva, their ever efficient maknae, has filmed most of her set, so she sends Seokjin the video of her performing DNA, another crowd favourite. When she watches it back, she can hear Joshua doing the fanchant, except he’s just replaced all the names with _Boo Rina! Boo Rina!_

They go for food afterwards, the big group of sixteen crowding into an already busy restaurant, hungry for a hearty meal after a long day in the Seoul heat. Rina and Hoshi get stopped several more times on the way there, Diva, Tiana and July also getting photo requests of their own.

“Okay!” she calls them all to attention once they’re sat down. “I’m desperate for a drink, so if you all write down your orders now, I’ll go and get us some.” She takes down a list of drinks, decides that Jinseol can get her own once she’s back from the toilet, and pushes her chair back to head over to the bar. “I might need help with carrying them back, though.”

“I’ll come,” offers Seungcheol, of all people. It surprises her for a second, but she’s mostly thinking about the strawberry lemonade she’s desperate to get, so she rolls with it.

“Sure.” She leads him to the bar, where they stand behind another three people also waiting to make orders.

There’s an awkward silence for a minute. She hasn’t spoken to Seungcheol since the texting incident when she was a teenager, and Seungcheol thinks they’ve never spoken before, she presumes. It’s hard to know what to say. It’s not that she’s still embarrassed about the texting thing—it’s seven years in her past now, and more of a growing pain than anything. She just doesn’t know what to talk about with someone like Choi Seungcheol. 

“Your performance was really good,” he starts eventually, and she startles a little at it. Someone in the line ahead of them gets their drink and leaves, so they shuffle forwards. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

She supposes he means it as a compliment, even if he does seem mostly confused. As Hansol had said to her, his heart is in the right place, even if he still doesn’t quite understand some things. Apparently he habitually asks Hansol to re-explain what asexual means ever since he’d come out as such. At least he’s trying.

“Thanks, Oppa. I was really nervous; I’ve been practising for a long time.”

“Yeah, I bet…” Seungcheol says, trailing off and fidgeting. They move another step forward in the queue, and she fights a smile. It’s always a kick to know that she makes boys nervous.

There’s another short silence, then he says, “Hansol told me, you know.”

“Told you what?” she asks.

“That, uh… do you remember texting me, a few years ago…”

“Oh,” she says. “He told you about that? That traitor.” Maybe it’s time Wonwoo finds out about Hansol’s dirtiest secret: his vast collection of Yu-Gi-Oh cards. They’d probably be thrilled about it, is the only problem. What a fucking nerd couple, completely made for each other.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol says, and laughs awkwardly, then gulps, scratching at the back of his head. “I actually wanted to apologise about that…”

“Apologise? For what?”

“I don’t remember it very well, but I don’t think I was very nice about it…”

She waves him away. “You were nicer than most straight boys would’ve been. I don’t hold anything against you for it.”

“Still,” he shrugs. “I think I was kind of defensive because I was working through my own stuff. I still am, you know. Hansol says I’m bisexual, but it’s still hard to get my head around it all.”

She smiles at him. “You don’t have to use any labels you don’t want to. They’re meant to help you, more than anything.”

He nods. “Being here really opened my eyes. I had no idea so many people were like this, you know?”

“Yeah,” she says. She hadn’t expected a coming out like this today, but it’s heart-warming to hear from someone who’s so fresh to the community, looking for his place like she was years ago. She also appreciates that he was tactful enough not to bring their history up over the dinner table. “I’m sorry about being a low-key creep back then. I hope it didn’t freak you out.”

“It’s fine. We’re way past that now, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, looking back at their table. Her friends are painted in all the colours of the rainbow, sitting around the table and chatting; her drag family are enthusing over the playlist being played in the restaurant; Jinseol is holding up her middle finger at Rina for not waiting for her drinks order. It feels familiar and safe and like an accomplishment, that she’s been able to accumulate all this. “We’ve sure come a long way from our tiny high school in Jeju.”

 

-

 

The new BTS comeback and world tour kicks off the next month, with two shows at the Seoul Olympic Stadium. Seokjin extends a personal invite to Seungkwan, and Seungkwan tells him he’s out of his mind.

“If I go to your concert, people will take pictures of me there, and your fans will find out who I am,” he says. He knows BTS fans. He’s seen how they work online. They’re scary. “People will talk, people will ask why I’m there, people will find my social media and all my work and make the connection to that video in the Pink Dive, you know they will. I can’t come to your show, Hyung.” They’re sat at their corner table in the café, Seungkwan freshly freed from a long shift. He’s tired, but he thinks Seokjin might be the delirious one between them.

“I don’t care if five people on twitter realise I went to a gay club eight months ago, Seungkwan. My family are coming on day one, and I’d like you to come on day two, before we jet off around the world for the rest of the year.”

“Five people on twitter,” he mutters, putting his head in his hands, elbows resting on the table. “You do know who you are, right? You know you’re an international celebrity with millions of fans?”

“Yeah, and no offence or anything, but about five of them on twitter will care that you came to a show,” Seokjin says. “I have four tickets for the private box to offer you, so bring some friends. Seokmin was very enthusiastic when I met him. I bet he’d like to come.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to come, Hyung, but I thought we were being careful about this whole thing? What happened to being secret and subtle and not announcing our relationship to the world?”

“I think subtlety went out of the window when I danced to my own song in drag at your gay club,” Seokjin points out, and Seungkwan can’t really refute that. He slumps to the side in defeat.

“It just worries me,” Seungkwan pouts, and Seokjin leans forwards to speak in a low voice. He knows that if they were in private, Seokjin would’ve kissed his pout in reassurance.

“Don’t be worried. I’ve been in front of cameras for years now, and I’m pretty good at keeping my private life under wraps when I want to. I’m telling you, if you want to come to our show, it’ll be okay.” He takes Seungkwan’s hands and holds them discreetly behind the menu.

Seungkwan looks at him for a minute, then nods. “Okay, then. I trust you. I would love to come to your show, Kim Seokjin.”

“Oh, we’re using my full name in public now, are we? I thought we were being secret and subtle, Seungkwannie?”

“I hate you,” Seungkwan says.

 

 

He decides to bring Seokmin and Jinseol to the concert, and gives the last ticket to Solji, Jinseol’s girlfriend, because he feels too bad trying to choose between his other friends. His only requirement is that nobody is too gay in public, which might be difficult, considering they have a 100% homosexuality rate between the four of them, two of which are in a gay relationship. What could go wrong?

He spots every phone, personal camera, and DSLR turned their way to take pictures of the private box. At first he tries to hide behind Solji, the most innocuous member of the group, but then Jinseol nudges him and tells him that the hiding only makes him more suspicious, and to stop being an annoying little brother to her girlfriend. They’re in there with some other invited family and friends, though, including Hoseok’s social-influencer sister. The fact that he isn’t the centre of attention assures him, for once.

The crowd’s interest is pulled away from them when the show starts, and Seungkwan also finds it easy to lose his nerves when the opening song blasts through the stadium. Idol is a huge, powerful opening song, and he can’t help but cheer along with the crowd. They’re deafening, and they know the fanchants to a startlingly precise degree. Not that he isn’t chanting right along with them.

He can’t keep his eyes off Seokjin. It’s one thing to see him in a music video, performing at a show, or dancing in a silly way to make Seungkwan laugh. It’s another to see him with the rest of his group, dancing to his internationally famous music, moves spotless and notes practised to perfection. Watching him confirms what Seungkwan already knows; Seokjin was made for performing on a stage like this. He thrives there, blowing kisses to his fans and singing so sweetly.

There’s a series of energetic songs in the middle of the show that have him and Seokmin on their feet, and he finds he doesn’t even care who looks anymore, because this is the best concert he’s ever been to and he’s here to enjoy himself and support his boyfriend, no matter what. The shift in tone towards the end of the set, when Seokjin comes out to perform his solo, makes him sit down again. It’s the most touching of all the songs they’ve played today, and he likes to think he’s not even biased about that; Epiphany is a beautiful song, and Seokjin emotes it like nothing he’s ever seen before. He’s known for crying easily, so Jinseol just laughs at him when he starts to tear up, though Seokmin takes pity and wipes at his face gently, letting Seungkwan hold onto his arm and watch the performance, enraptured.

Regardless, the show ends on an energetic note and Seungkwan has a big smile on his face when an attendant comes to take them all backstage. They’re led through winding corridors and down a series of steps, Seokmin clutching his hand and gushing the whole way. He gets the feeling they’re the only ones in this group who’ve never seen a BTS show before, but he’s not about to stop Seokmin from his babbling. It’s contagious.

The backroom is crowded with people, but Seokjin finds him quickly, and they hug firmly. Seungkwan speaks into his ear to tell him how good he was and how much he’d enjoyed the show, and Seokjin’s smile when he pulls away could light the sun. He wishes he could kiss him, but he lets Seokmin take over and shake Seokjin’s hand and congratulate him instead, as he looks around the room. Everyone else is occupied with greeting their own guests, but there’s several staff members hovering about too, and Seungkwan isn’t sure who Seokjin has trusted with his private life. He’ll have to convince Seokjin to come over later, so that he can kiss him however much he likes and show him just how good he is.

It turns out Big Hit have rented out a whole restaurant to celebrate the start of the tour with the whole crew, so they’re treated to some very good meat in the evening afterwards. Some of the staff members ask who they’re here with, but when Seungkwan introduces them as Seokjin’s friends, they’re treated with kindness and familiarity. It’s the most fun afternoon he’s had in a while. He even feels a little bad for the company when the managers go to pay the unbelievable food bill on company cards, but is soon distracted by Seokjin cornering him.

“Will you come back with me?” he murmurs, standing close to Seungkwan and putting his hands on his forearms. “I don’t want you to leave yet.”

“Come back to yours?” he asks, in surprise. He’s never been to the luxurious Bangtan dormitory in Hannam-Dong, one of the most expensive places to live in South Korea. He’d assumed it was off-limits, mostly because Seokjin lives with six other boys.

“We leave for America tomorrow,” Seokjin reminds him. Seungkwan hadn’t needed any more convincing, though the reminder makes him ache.

“Of course I will,” he breathes. “Let me tell the others.”

Seokjin nods and moves away from him, going over to speak to his manager.

Seungkwan goes to kneel between where Seokmin and Jinseol are sitting, speaking in a low voice. “I’m going back to Seokjin’s for the night. Are you guys okay getting home?”

“Of course,” Seokmin agrees. “Go and spend time with him. Thanks for inviting me today, Seungkwannie. It was so much fun.” Seokmin leans in for a hug, and Seungkwan reciprocates warmly, though a little awkwardly, from his squat on the floor.

He turns to Jinseol, who wiggles her eyebrows at him, but then leans in for a hug too. “Be safe, baby brother.”

“Always am,” he says, hugs her back, and stands up again. Everyone they’d eaten with are leaving the restaurant in small groups, the members of BTS standing by the door to say their goodbyes, and Seungkwan’s friends stand to leave with them. He gives Solji a hug too and waves after them, going to stand by Seokjin as the last of the staff leave, piling into various company cars.

“Okay,” the manager calls, though it’s not particularly necessary in the mostly empty restaurant. “Do we have everyone?” he does a quick headcount. “Yep, seven, and Seokjin’s plus one. Alright then, let’s get you home.”

Seokjin takes his hand and leads him out, the two of them trailing behind the rest of the band towards their van. It’s dark, probably near midnight, and the restaurant carpark is deserted and closed off. Still, it sends a thrill through him to be able to do this with Seokjin, where anyone can see. He supposes it means the rest of BTS know, too, which is a comfort.

Seokjin holds the heavy sliding door open for him as he stoops to climb in, sitting himself in a pair of seats by the window. Seokjin climbs in last, pulling the door behind him and sitting next to Seungkwan in the dark car. Jimin is talking to Jungkook about something funny that happened during the show, laughing loudly at the comment he makes about it. When the car rumbles into life, the dark figure of whoever is sitting in front of them turns around and extends a hand to Seungkwan.

“Hello, there. I’m Taehyung.”

Seungkwan shifts from where he’d rested his head on Seokjin’s shoulder to reach out a hand and shake Taehyung’s. “Hi, I’m Boo Seungkwan. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hey, don’t scare him off,” Seokjin reprimands Taehyung.

“I was just saying hello!” Taehyung says defensively. “Don’t you want us to meet your boyfriend, Hyung?”

“Oh, yes,” says Jimin, who’s sat next to Taehyung, also twisting in his seat to face Seungkwan. “We have to do introductions! Hello, I’m Park Jimin!” Even under the dim streetlights passing outside, Seungkwan can make out his earnest smile, kind eyes lighting up his face.

“Hi!” Seungkwan says. “I know who you all are, but it’s nice to meet you anyway.”

“Hello!” Jungkook calls out in a drawn-out voice from the front.

“Don’t tease,” Namjoon says from next to him. “It’s great to finally meet you, Seungkwan.”

“Yeah, Hyung talks about you a lot,” Yoongi says from the back seat, and Seokjin turns around to swat at him.

“Oh really?” he says, looking at Seokjin, who’s turning red. “Only good things I hope?”

“Oh, the best things,” Hoseok agrees. “We thought he’d made you up at first.”

“You did not think that!” Seokjin splutters.

“We were seriously considering it, Hyung,” Jimin confirms. “The story about the lights was just too far-fetched.”

“It’s true!” Seokjin protests. “Why would I make that up?”

“I don’t know why you say half the things you say, to be honest, Hyung,” Jungkook agrees from the front.

“It really is true,” Seungkwan laughs. It’s hard not to feel comfortable here, where they have such a natural friendship, and they’re all greeting him so warmly. “Our first date was in his restaurant, while I was being half blinded by a set of lights my boss owns, eating udon that he’d coerced me into as a business negotiation.”

“Hey, you make it sound like you didn’t enjoy it,” Seokjin complains.

“Oh, I enjoyed it,” Seungkwan says. “But it’s a first date I never could’ve predicted.” Jimin and Taehyung snigger.

“I suppose that’s the sort of thing you have to expect, dating Seokjin,” says Hoseok.

“Are you all quite done?” Seokjin complains, slumping down to hide his face in Seungkwan’s shoulder. “I should never have put you all in the same place. All you want to do is bully me.”

“We only do it because we love you,” Seungkwan coos, putting a hand on Seokjin’s warm cheek.

“So Seungkwan, what is it you do?” Namjoon calls back. “Seokjin tried to explain it, but it wasn’t a very good explanation.”

“Hey!” Seokjin protests. “It’s not my fault you don’t know about these things!”

“I work in a café by day, and in a club by night. These days I help with the management, running the club and things like that, but my main job was always being a drag queen there.”

“A drag queen? What’s that?” Taehyung asks.

Seungkwan takes a deep breath and readies himself. “It means I dress up in outfits that you might call feminine—dresses and leotards and the such—and perform as a woman, under the name Tangerina. I dance and sing for small crowds most nights a week. I took the night off to come to your show tonight.”

“Oh, I did that a couple times when I was in school,” Taehyung says. “Dressed up and put on a performance. It was fun.”

“So you’re like us? A performer?” Hoseok asks.

“How is it you can understand perfectly when he explains it, but you act like I’m stupid when I explain it?” Seokjin whines.

“He makes actual sense,” Jungkook says.

Seungkwan turns to answer Hoseok. “I suppose so, yeah. I love to sing; I’ve been doing it since I was tiny. The dancing is mostly self-taught, though. Obviously on a very different scale to you, too—your show tonight was such a different experience. What you do is amazing!”

“You do everything we do on a stage, but all on your own,” Seokjin says. “You’re a lot like us, Seungkwannie. You’re an incredible performer.”

“Aww, Hyung!” Jimin says. “That’s so cute!”

“I’m not just saying that!” Seokjin protests, cheeks deepening impossibly redder. “Just wait until you hear him sing!”

“Ask me when I haven’t been screaming my lungs out at your show for hours,” Seungkwan says, going a little pink himself and settling back into Seokjin’s side.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunity in future, Seungkwan,” Namjoon agrees. “I’m pretty sure Seokjin is going to keep you around.”

 

 

When they pull into the apartment building, it’s even grander than Seungkwan had imagined. The whole place is gleaming, so well kept it feels almost artificial. The area is quiet and closed off, giving them the utmost privacy as they bid the manager goodnight and make their way inside, Seungkwan sticking close by Seokjin. The flowers planted outside probably cost more than his apartment.

They file into a huge elevator and go up what feels like a hundred floors, a stunning view of Seoul by night visible through the glass, and he leans against Seokjin as they look out at it together. The rest

of the boys are making happy chatter, still running on adrenaline from the show, but he can tell Seokjin feels as melancholy as he does. He doesn’t want him to leave tomorrow.

They kick off their shoes and shuffle through the apartment together, Seokjin clinging onto Seungkwan’s back in a koala cuddle, leading them into his bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind them and they both collapse into a tangle of limbs on his bed.

“You’re not hungry or anything are you? Do you want a drink?”

“I think it would be impossible for me to be hungry after that meal we just had,” Seungkwan says, rolling over so that Seokjin slides off his back and onto his stomach on the bed. Seungkwan lies on his own back and looks over at him, holds out his hand to intertwine their fingers. They lie in silence for a minute, tired out by the day.

“You did well today, Hyung,” Seungkwan says into the quiet. “You were beautiful up there, really. I want to become a performer like you.”

Seokjin smiles into the bedsheets and squeezes his hand. “That’s funny, because I want to be a performer like you, too.”

“Well, aren’t we a pair,” Seungkwan smiles. “Just going around in an infinite circle, I suppose.”

They lay there and breathe for a minute or two before Seokjin speaks again. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“Infinity with you.”

Seungkwan smiles and covers his mouth. “That was so cheesy. I hate it.” He sniffles. “Fuck.  Why am I crying?”

“Because I’m the best romantic,” Seokjin says, smiling too and propping himself up on his elbows. “You can’t resist my charm.” He leans over to thumb a tear from the corner of Seungkwan’s eye.

“Oh, is that how I got here, then? You charmed me? Now that you’ve admitted it, I suppose I’ll let myself out.” He sits up as if he’s about to get off the bed and leave, and Seokjin whines at him and grabs him by the shoulders, pulling him back down onto the bed.

“No, you have to stay!”

“And why is that?”

“Because you love me?”

Seungkwan smiles and shuffles over on the bed, lying down and wrapping his arms around Seokjin’s waist. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

Seokjin plants a kiss on the top of his head and slings one leg over Seungkwan’s. “Can we just stay here forever?”

“What, for infinity?”

“Yeah.”

Seungkwan kisses the base of Seokjin’s throat and says, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that.”

 

-

 

The first week after Seokjin leaves for America, it’s okay. They still message and call a lot, albeit at awkward times to accommodate for the time difference. He doesn’t usually get to see Seokjin every week anyway—he’s an idol, after all, and has a lot of schedules and responsibilities. It’s the second week that he starts to feel Seokjin’s absence—it’s when their usual table is always occupied by strangers, never by him dropping in to meet Seungkwan. It’s when he’s getting ready for another night at the Pink Dive, and Jinseol is out at rehearsals or shows or seeing her girlfriend, and the apartment feels lonely. It’s when he does a show, or meets with his friends, or does his grocery shopping. Seokjin’s absence becomes a black hole, gnawing away at him from the inside. He’s in the middle of a hectic promo schedule, so he can’t call all that often, doesn’t read his messages for hours and then replies at odd hours of the morning, and Seungkwan misses their easy conversations.

His friends start to notice his wilting energy, and Chan demands they do something fun together, as a family.

“I can’t even think of a time we’ve hung out together without talking about the Pink Dive,” he says. “I know it’s our thing, but come on. Let’s go and do something fun for a day.”

They go shopping together, which is a meticulous process when you’re in a group of five drag queens. It’s easier to go into the women’s sections without shame when you have the power of a group behind you, though. They find stalls in the market with items from every region of the world, and Jun and Minghao get caught up in the Chinese one, comparing various traditional clothing pieces against each other and sifting through potential prop materials. Minghao, Jun and Soonyoung are more crafty queens, often making their own outfits and designing hybrid looks, so when they become engaged in a craft supplies shop, Seungkwan and Chan decide to take a break and get themselves boba tea. They find a stall with some outdoor seating, and agree that it’s still warm enough to sit at one of the metal tables together, even though it’s approaching October. It’s been a while since they’ve talked, just the two of them together, and Chan starts the interrogation almost immediately.

“Are you feeling better these days, Hyung? I know your boyfriend has been abroad for a while.”

“Yeah, a month now,” Seungkwan says, sighing and playing with his drink’s straw. “I’m getting used to it, but it’s not the most fun I’ve ever had. I don’t know how I wasn’t so bored and sad before I knew him.”

“It’s because you weren’t in love before you knew him,” Chan says, knowingly.

Seungkwan raises an eyebrow. “I suppose you’d know a thing about that, right?”

Chan pauses for a moment, then looks down at the table. “I suppose so.”

“Are you never going to tell him?” Seungkwan asks. He’s had this crush on Soonyoung for God knows how long, now—he’d first learned of it a year ago, and he knows Chan had been struggling with it for a while before that. He admires his patience; if Seungkwan had been in his place, he would’ve gone stir crazy by now.

Chan shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t want to do anything that would hurt our relationship, but I don’t think this feeling is going away, is it?”

A crush that intense? He’d been optimistic to think it’d fade away, just like that. “I don’t think so, Channie.”

“At this point, it feels like a guilty secret. Maybe I will tell him. I’m going to wait until I have enough money to move out, though, in case he doesn’t want me living with him anymore.”

“Does your job pay you well enough for that?” Chan had found work as a receptionist for four days a week. He’s personable and enthusiastic, so he’s very good at it, but surely it can’t pay enough for him to afford a one-person apartment in the middle of Seoul.

“Between the drag work and a roommate, I think I’d be able to afford it.”

“I don’t think it has to come to that, you know. Soonyoung would sooner leave the Dive than let you move out of his sight without a proper plan.”

“You know that isn’t true. He loves that club more than anything.”

“Not more than you,” Seungkwan says. “I really don’t think he’d be upset if he found out about how you feel.”

“I don’t know,” Chan shrugs. “Can we talk about something more fun?”

“What’s fun when you have an estranged love life?” Seungkwan sighs dramatically, resting his face on the cold table.

“At least you have a love life,” Chan remarks. “It’s not like he’s gone to war. I saw you messaging him half an hour ago!”

“Yeah, and he was online for a whole five minutes. I can’t live like this, Channie! I need constant attention and affection!”

“That’s what we came here for!” Chan protests. “So we can give you all the attention you want, you big baby!”

“And yet, here I am, being called names by my dongsaeng,” Seungkwan sighs. “I live a cold, loveless life.”

“Stop,” Chan laughs, standing up from his seat. “Come on, let’s go back to the others. They can give you the attention you crave so dearly.”

“Lee Chan,” he says, standing up with him. “That’s the best thing you’ve said today.”

 

-

 

Seokjin is back in Seoul for a week and a half at the beginning of November before the Japanese leg of the tour, and Seungkwan is half tempted to go and meet him at the airport when he hears about Seokjin’s plane landing. He’s convinced not to when Jeonghan reminds him that celebrities are already met by their hundreds of fans at airports, and he can’t have the reunited sweethearts cliché he was imagining. So instead, he stays in bed, grumpy, waiting for Seokjin to text him. It doesn’t come through until late in the night, when Seungkwan is nearly asleep, phone hanging loosely in his hand. He’s jolted back awake by the vibration, and a new message flashing across the too-bright screen.

_I’m picking you up at 1 tomorrow. I hope you’re ready to fit in three months worth of missed dates_

He smiles, and feels that ache in his heart blossom into something lighter as excitement takes over. He’s so, so ready to see Seokjin again.

 _I’ll see you then,_ he replies. _I hope you’re ready to make up for three months of kisses_

 _Wouldn’t miss it for the world,_ Seokjin says. Seungkwan sends back a string of heart emojis, puts his phone on silent, and buries his face in his pillow. He’s kept awake for a little while by the anticipation, and the undying smile on his face.

 

 

Seokjin is there by 1PM, as promised, pulling up in a company car that’s big and expensive and not at all subtle.

 _I can see you!!_ Seungkwan texts him _. Don’t come up to meet me, I’m coming down. I can’t wait a minute more to see you_

He leaves his apartment quickly before the neighbours can start to peer at the expensive car for too long, is about to climb in the back when he notices Seokjin in the front, waiting patiently in the driver’s seat.

“This is new,” he remarks as he climbs into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind him.

“What? My face? Did America work wonders?” Seokjin replies.

“I’ve never seen you drive before,” Seungkwan smiles, his heart jumping because Seokjin right here, in the flesh, smiling and ready to be kissed after three months of waiting.

“You know me. I’m always going out of my way to impress you,” he says, before leaning over the handbrake to kiss Seungkwan. Seungkwan complies readily, meeting him in the middle and putting a hand to the back of his head to hold him in place. He remembers that the car has blackout windows, and considers maybe climbing into his lap for better access, but then Seokjin breaks away from him, smiling so softly that his heart melts. “I’m glad to be back,” he says, in a quiet voice.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Seungkwan replies, giving his mouth another quick peck.

“Then strap in, Seungkwannie, because I’m about to make you even happier to be in my presence. We have rehearsals and planning and a million things to do before Japan, so this is probably going to be our only full day together until the mid-December.”

“God, don’t tell me that,” Seungkwan says, pulling at his seatbelt and clicking it into place. “Let me just enjoy you being here.”

“Then I’d better make today live up to your expectations,” Seokjin says as he starts up the engine and pulls the car out of the parking space.

“It’s already meeting them because we’re together,” Seungkwan says, smiling at his boyfriend as they drive away from his apartment, towards whatever plans Seokjin has for them.

 

 

They start with a meal at a fancy brunch place, ordering some interesting seafood dishes that turn out to be delicious, before spending the afternoon at the huge Starfield mall complex. Seokjin proceeds to buy Seungkwan any clothing he so much as sets his eyes on, despite his resistance, because _it’s three months’ worth of dates, Seungkwan, I’m just cramming it all in now_. They hit up the underground aquarium attached to the mall too; Seungkwan coos over the starfish, Seokjin pulls faces at the shark tank. They send Jihoon a picture of the sting rays, because Seokjin insists he might be related to them, they look so alike. After dinner, they head to a place opposite the mall. Seungkwan protests as soon as he sees it.

“Oh, no, I can’t ice skate at all! I’ve only been once and it was terrible, I was falling over constantly—”

“Then we’ll be on our asses together,” Seokjin says, pulling at Seungkwan’s arm to lead him into the building without mercy, his protests bouncing right off his determined exterior. Seungkwan sighs and grumbles and moans as Seokjin leads him to the counter, gets them each a pair of skates, and leads him onto the ice.

Stepping onto it is just as bad as he remembers. He’s stock still, clutching at the railing in fear. As soon as he moves, he’ll be on his ass, he knows it.

“Come on!” Seokjin says, skating ahead of him as if it’s just that easy. Smug bastard.

“No, I can’t let go! I’ll fall!” he whines, pulling himself closer to the wall. Skaters pass them without a second glance—there are kids moving faster than him.

“You can’t try? You can dance in heels without a problem, but you don’t want to let go of the railing at ice skating?” Seokjin skates up behind him and puts his hands on Seungkwan’s waist.

“Do you know what the population of Jeju Island is, Hyung?” he says through gritted teeth. “Half a million people. Do you know how many people that is? It’s one percent of the population of South Korea. Jeju island has one gay club, where I could dance in heels to my heart’s content, and zero ice skating rinks, because they don’t build that sort of thing for one percent of the population!”

“You’re not in Jeju anymore, though!”

“I know, because if I was, I wouldn’t be on an ice rink right now.”

“But you wouldn’t be here with me, either,” Seokjin points out, and Seungkwan manages to look up from his feet long enough to shoot him a look.

“Good point. If I’d never met you, I wouldn’t be here right now. What a loss.”

“You mean you don’t want me to hold your hand and pull you around?”

“If you only wanted to hold my hand, there’s a million better places to do it than on ice.”

“You won’t think that once you’ve actually felt what ice skating is like.” Seokjin holds out a hand.

Seungkwan takes a deep breath, pries one of his white-knuckled fists from the railing to latch it onto Seokjin’s awaiting hand instead. “If you let go of me, I’m breaking up with you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Seokjin says, laughter in his voice. Seungkwan lets go of the railing with his other hand, placing it into Seokjin’s trust, wobbling on the thin blades as they hold each other on the ice, an isolated bubble standing in a crowd of skaters. Seokjin pushes off slightly, pulling them a few inches on the ice, and Seungkwan wails pathetically. Seokjin bursts into laughter.

“Stop! It’s not my fault I have no idea what I’m doing!”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Most of the time.”

“Then trust me to pull you. All you have to do is stay upright.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Have some faith in yourself, Seungkwannie!”

Seokjin moves again, pushing against the ice and moving them further. They start off slowly, Seungkwan rigid as he clutches onto Seokjin, but as the skating gets smoother and Seokjin shows no sign of pulling away from him, he lets himself relax a little, and Seokjin can pull him easier. They go around at an easy pace, and he even lets himself lift a boot from the ice, trying to mimic what everyone else is doing to gain momentum. He can’t really figure out how to propel himself, but the steps make it easier on Seokjin, and soon enough they’re matching the speed of other couples and groups of friends on the ice. The smooth movement and proximity to Seokjin is almost relaxing; once he lets go of his trepidation, it’s kind of fun to go zooming round.

“Ice, ice, baby,” he sings, as they pass the entrance for another loop of the rink.

Seokjin hears him and looks back, laughing, which makes Seungkwan laugh too, so neither of them sees the wall they collide with a second later. It sends Seungkwan sprawling on his ass, as predicted, though Seokjin manages to stay upright for another ten seconds by flailing wildly on the ice, tilting his body back and forth as his legs go everywhere trying to keep his balance. Eventually he leans too far back and comes down on his ass with a thump, legs sprawled out in front of him and eyes wide. Seungkwan doubles over in laughter at him, and they both sit there and laugh at each other, and he finds he doesn’t really mind the feeling of bruises so much; Seokjin’s performance was far too spectacular to feel hurt by the fall. Seokjin’s cap had come off in the fall, so he fits it back securely onto his head before trying to stand again. It takes him a good few minutes, as he keeps slipping on the ice and clutching at the railing, and doubling over again when Seungkwan laughs at him, bright and loud. Eventually they make it back onto their feet and skate towards the exit of the rink, Seungkwan clutching his arm tightly, smiling too wide to complain any more.

 

-

 

There’s another few weeks of working hard and texting each other before Seokjin is back in the country in December. The first thing he does upon arrival in Seoul is invite Seungkwan to his birthday meal with his parents.

“If you count the meal at Ossu Seiromushi as our first date, we’ve been together a year now,” he says. “My parents keep asking to meet you.”

“You tell your parents about me?” he says faintly. He knows Seokjin is a good son, and that it shouldn’t be surprising he communicates well with his parents. Ma knows about Seokjin, after all, and she’s happy for him, but with her living a plane ride away, it feels more distant. Seokjin’s parents are right here in the city, wanting to meet him, and wow, that’s scary.

“Of course. I talk to everyone about you,” Seokjin admits, and Seungkwan imagines him going a little pink on the other end of the phone.

So that’s how he ends up at the Kim household, eating a home-cooked meal across the table from Seokjin’s parents.

“So, Seokjin tells us you work in a café?” Seokjin’s mother asks politely.

“Yes!” he says, swallowing down his beef. He’s struggling to get a read on Seokjin’s parents. They’ve been perfectly kind and civil towards him, but they have that distant air to them that rich people seem to have, especially when they’re trying to talk about things like café work. “I like it a lot. I’m close with a lot of my co-workers, and it’s a lovely little independent place.”

“Yes, that’s where we met,” Seokjin provides. “I went there to eat with Hyung, and he was our server.” Considering Seventeen café is in fact not where they first met, he supposes that’s a hint that drag conversation is out of the question. He can work with that.

“And now he won’t stop coming back,” Seungkwan says. Seokjin shoves a spoonful of food into his mouth unabashedly.

“Are you aiming for another job?” Seokjin’s father asks.

“Ah,” he says, not sure how to explain he’s already in his dream job by night. “I’m looking for other opportunities, certainly. But I’m still young. I have a lot of time.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“And here’s Seokjin turning twenty-seven!” his mother exclaims. “Are you sure he’s not too old for you? Can you keep up with him, son?” she teases, and Seungkwan laughs.

“Mother!” Seokjin whines. “It’s bad enough that my members call me old, do I have to get it at home too?”

“Sorry, darling, it’s just strange to think my youngest is so grown up now! Are you trying to hold onto your youth with such a young boyfriend?”

“Hyung is already thirty! I’m still the baby of the house!” Seokjin complains. Seungkwan giggles at him, and even Seokjin’s father cracks a soft smile.

 

Seokjin offers to drop him back home afterwards, bidding his parents a goodnight and leading him towards the car.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says when they’re sat in the front seats and he’s putting the key in the ignition. “They don’t mind that I have a boyfriend, because they know I’m happy. But I really don’t know how they’d react to the drag thing. I don’t think they’d understand, and I wanted to save you from that awkwardness.”

“It’s okay,” he says, truthfully. “Your parents were very kind. And the food was amazing.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin says, pulling the car into the road. “I miss home cooking when we’re away.”

“Don’t you eat at the best restaurants in the world?”

“Yes, but nothing compares to home.”

They’re silent for a while, that all too familiar longing creeping up on Seungkwan as he knows their time has come to an end again. “Will you stay for the night?” he asks quietly, turning to face Seokjin in the dark of the car.

Seokjin looks at him. “I wish I could. We have an early flight to Taiwan tomorrow morning.”

“Taiwan? But you only just got back!”

Seokjin nods, barely perceptible. “The end of the year always gives us crazy schedules. We probably won’t have another chance to see each other until the new year, now.”

He lets that settle in. Another month. “I miss you when you’re gone. So much.”

“I miss you too,” Seokjin says, pulling the car into Seungkwan’s road. The drive was too short. They always are. “But I have no choice. BTS is one half of my life, and you are the other half, and I’m trying my best to balance them.”

“I know. I don’t blame you. I just miss you.” The car comes to a stop, engine cutting out as Seokjin parks by Seungkwan’s apartment. Seokjin leans over to kiss him, slow and affectionate, just the two of them and the gentle beams of moonlight shining into the car. It’s still and silent other than the sound of their kissing, the rustle of clothes as Seokjin cradles Seungkwan’s face in one hand.

“I’ll be back before you know it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says, and wills himself not to cry. Instead he gives Seokjin another quick kiss, and opens the door at his side, stepping out and turning around to wave back into the car before he shuts the door. Seokjin waves back, blows him a kiss, then starts up the car again. Seungkwan stands and watches as he drives away, then trudges up the stairs to his apartment, wiping away tears.

 

-

 

Holidays always have good custom at the Dive, and New Year’s Eve is perhaps their busiest day of the year. It’s tradition; spend Christmas with your loved ones, Chinese New Year with your family, and New Year’s Eve getting wasted at the Pink Dive.

They have a spectacular night planned, performances all night long from all five of them, ending with a never-before seen performance that will put all five of them on the stage at the same time. The place is packed from opening hour, couples and singles and groups coming in and out, dancing and drinking and cheering for the performances. Usually, she likes to maintain some sort of professionalism while at work, but what the hell, it’s the end of the year, and they’re celebrating! When she’s done with her set, she finds her friends and downs some drinks, and spends the rest of the night chatting with Joshua and Jeonghan, or pulling Jihoon up to dance with her, or spying on Hoshi and Diva with Seokmin. She’s not sure if they’re both just drunk enough to be dancing on each other the way they are, or if Diva has finally confessed, but she’s happy for them.

The midnight countdown happens, and she pecks Seokmin on the cheek, tells him that at least his name is halfway right, so he gets a kiss halfway to his mouth. He just laughs at her, way too loud and drunk, but at least he’s happy. July goes up on stage to start her set, much to the appreciation of the crowd. Rina cheers for her the loudest, tugging Jihoon to the front and putting all his small cash into the tips jar, because her own bag is in the backroom. He barely even protests. July’s performances always kind of stun him into silence.

It’s hard to know how much time passes with her attention all over the place, shortened by alcohol, her focus all messed up so that she doesn’t notice the tug on her arm at first. There’s a lot of people on the dance floor, so knocking into someone every couple of minutes is inevitable, and she’s had enough to drink that she doesn’t really notice it anymore. But then they tug again, and Jihoon is nudging at her, pointing at someone over her shoulder. When she turns, Seokjin is standing there, trying to say something to her over the deafening music. At first, she’s thrilled; he’s come all this way to see her! She throws her arms around him in a delighted hug, laughing bright and happy. Unfortunately, she’s not quite drunk enough to be completely oblivious. He’s not in his usual Jay attire, but instead wearing an expensive suit, hair and makeup styled for the stage. Despite his caution about coming back to the Dive, he’s standing in the middle of the dance floor without any concern for the people around them, a serious look on his face, and now that she pays attention to it, a bodyguard at his back. People are stopping their dancing to stare at him, and she can see recognition ripple in the nearby crowd. A bystander pulling out her phone is what snaps her into action; it’s sobering to realise what he’s risking, being here, and it’s scary to see how little he seems to care.

“Seokjin? Why are you here?”

“Rina, we have to go,” he says, still holding onto her arm, trying to pull her towards him, towards the exit.

“What? Go where? I still have to perform again—”

“You can’t stay here. People will start to ask you questions. I’m sorry, but you really need to come with me. Trust me, okay?”

She stares at Seokjin for a few moments, and he levels her with his own look. Then she turns to Jihoon, who nods at her. “I’ll tell the others. Go.”

Bewildered, she follows after Seokjin, who’s grasping at her hand and pulling her through the crowd after him. It’s not hard, with the big bodyguard making space ahead of them, but she knows it’s really the whispers of Seokjin’s name that’s parting the people. It feels like all eyes are on her, for all the wrong reasons, and it’s unsettling.

The air outside is sharp and cold, snowflakes touching her face as soon as they step out, icy wind biting at her bare legs. They’d walked out without stopping for her coat, but she only feels the cold for a second before she’s ushered into a heated car. The bodyguard sees them in, shuts the door, and walks around to get into the driver’s seat. One of Seokjin’s managers is sat in the passenger seat, but he doesn’t say anything as they get in.

“Oppa?” she asks, uncomfortable with the sudden new surroundings, the unknown people exposed to this side of her. Jin and Jay have blurred together by Seokjin’s presence in her club; Rina and Seungkwan are now running into one, surrounded by Seokjin’s life here, a space she was never meant to enter. “What’s going on? Why did you pull me out of there?” She turns to face him, tense all over.

Seokjin is tense too, the side of his face shadowed and upset. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen it yet.”

“Seen what?”

“Dispatch release a new dating scandal every New Year’s Day,” Seokjin says, and that’s all she needs to hear for her stomach to swoop, breath trapped in her throat.

“No,” she says, stares at the phone Seokjin is handing her. There’s an article on the screen and she can barely process the headline: _BTS Jin Revealed To Be Dating Transvestite Man_. The thumbnail shows a screenshot of her midway through the pole routine.

She scrolls down the article with shaking hands. It doesn’t say much, but a picture paints a thousand words, and they have several. There’s a shot of the two of them sitting inside the Seventeen Café, holding hands behind a menu. There’s two pictures of her in drag outside the Pink Dive; one time in spring when he’d come to pick her up after work, and another time in summer when he’d dropped her off after a dinner date. The photos are accompanied by posts from her Instagram, confirming her identity by matching the outfits and dates.

She’s been made complacent in Seokjin’s forceful outing, in the public airing of their personal business. The car turns a corner, and she can feel bile in her throat.

“Your company can deny this, right?” she says, after swallowing down her queasiness. “These pictures don’t prove anything. You can say we’re friends. It doesn’t have to impact you. Right?”

Seokjin shakes his head at her. She’s never known him to be this quiet. “Scroll to the end.”

She scrolls past another set of pictures, this time from outside the ice-skating rink, a shot of the two of them side by side. Some are of him at the concert, Seokmin sat eagerly beside him. Then, at the end, there’s a photo she can’t quite believe she’s seeing. It must have been taken from the building opposite her apartment, because it’s a clear photo of the interior of her bedroom. She and Seokjin are standing together, Seokjin shirtless, her own face just visible over his shoulder. She’s beaming, laughing at something he’d said. In the next one, Seokjin has his face turned to look at the bed, his side profile sharp and unmistakable. In the last one, they’re unmistakably kissing, closed eyes and enclosed in a warm embrace, only focused on each other.

She remembers that. She remembers they’d kissed, and she’d seen that the blind was open, and she’d gone over to close it before they’d progressed further. She hadn’t noticed soon enough, though; Dispatch had still got what they needed.

“Hey, breathe,” she hears Seokjin saying, and she takes in a big gulp of air, as if she’d forgotten to breathe for the past minute. Then she stutters and coughs, tears suddenly coming out hot and fast, and Seokjin pulls her into his side.

“Rina, hey. This isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry this has happened. I thought I was being careful, but it wasn’t careful enough.”

“Fuck,” is all she says, grasping onto Seokjin as she cries. “Oh, fuck, Seokjin. What are we going to do?”

“The car is currently headed to the Big Hit building,” Seokjin explains. “My CEO told us to come directly from Gayo Daejejun once he heard the news—we’re having an emergency meeting with our head publicists. You can come in with me if you want, because this does concern you, or you can stay in the car if you prefer. It’s up to you. I just knew I had to get you out of the Dive before photographers started to crowd the place. You might want to give Hoshi a heads up about that. It’s bound to happen.”

“God,” she says, burying her head into Seokjin’s shoulder, because her makeup is probably ruined from the crying anyway. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Even though I wish it wouldn’t.” The car pulls into a gated area; she realises they’ve arrived. “What do you want to do? If you want to stay here, it’s no problem. You don’t have to come in.”

“Does your CEO want me there?” she asks. The manager is stepping out of the car, as is the driver, but Seokjin stays seated, focused on her.

“He asked for you to come, yes. But don’t let that influence you.”

She shakes her head. “No, I want to know what your company thinks about all this. I look like a mess, though.”

“You look beautiful,” he tells her, sincerely. She shoots him a withered look, but he stands by it. “You always do.”

“Don’t make me cry again,” she says, already choking up. The manager raps on Seokjin’s window, and they both jump.

“I have a change of clothes, and I’m sure I can get makeup wipes from someone.”

“That’ll do,” she concedes, and Seokjin opens his car door. She slips out after him, back into the cold winter air, and he drapes her suit jacket around her shoulders for the short walk to the company building. She’s in a little strappy dress, white and tight, not doing much to keep her insulated.

When they step in the building, it’s deserted. Most of the rooms are dark and empty, and the manager leads them down several corridors in silence. When they ascend a set of stairs up to a big office room with the blinds drawn, they find five members of BTS sat outside, faces grim. Taehyung and Jimin stand as soon as they spot them coming, Rina still sniffling and clutching at Seokjin’s arm.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says, at the same time as Jimin says,

“Oh, come here,” and embraces Rina in a hug. She accepts gladly, clutching onto him. They’re all dressed similarly to Seokjin, rushed straight from the music festival.

“Didn’t he want all of you in there?” Seokjin asks.

“No, just you and Namjoon,” Taehyung replies.

“Does anyone have any makeup wipes?” she asks.

“There’s a stylists office just down the hall from here,” Jimin says. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She looks over at Seokjin, who nods at her. “Come in when you’re ready.” Then he steels himself, heading towards the office door, so she lets Jimin steer her away down the corridor. The manager hands her Seokjin’s spare clothes before she goes.

The door to the office is thankfully unlocked, and it takes Jimin less than a minute to find some makeup wipes. By that time Seungkwan has already stripped his wig and dress off, dumping them on the floor without any of his usual care. He wiggles out of the panties and untucks his dick, dumping the silicone boobs on the pile, too, not really caring that he’s naked in front of Jimin as he pulls on the sweatpants and t-shirt. Jimin hands him the packet of makeup wipes, and he locates a mirror, going through four, five, six wipes quickly, rubbing at his face angrily. He’s not sure how long it takes, because he feels like he’s in a daze, until he realises Jimin is pulling his hand away from where he’s scrubbing at bare skin, making the side of his face blossom red. He looks at himself in the mirror—hair flopping in his eyes, face bare and blotchy with crying, in Seokjin’s loose shirt and too-long sweatpants. Jimin must be able to tell that he’s a second away from crying again, because he embraces Seungkwan from the back, rubbing at his side in a gesture of gentle comfort.

“No one is upset at you, you know,” Jimin says. “You make Seokjin so happy. We can all see it. Whatever they say in there, this isn’t your fault.”

He manages a watery smile and small nod. “Thank you.”

They walk back down the hallway, Jimin clutching his hand reassuringly. The other members watch them as they stop outside the office door, Jimin knocking on it for him. “Good luck in there.”

He nods back at him gratefully, hears someone from inside call him in, and pushes the door open.

When he enters, he’s met by the sight of a large table with a small number of people: Seokjin and Namjoon sat together on one side, an empty chair by Seokjin that he heads towards immediately. Opposite them is Bang Sihyuk, their hefty CEO, next to a man and a woman, who Seungkwan presumes are the publicists. He gives them a formal bow before sitting down, thinking he should apologise for being late, but the words won’t come out of his mouth.

Seokjin takes his hand as he sits down, and the man opposite them stares at their linked hands. Bang Sihyuk ignores it completely.

“Here are the facts of the matter,” he says, as if Seungkwan hadn’t even entered. “You’ve violated your contract. You aren’t banned from dating, but you are required to disclose it to the company so that we can competently protect you. You failed to do this, and now we’re here, facing a publicity disaster.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says in a soft voice. “I did, and I’m willing to face reprimands. I apologise sincerely, PD. But what action do we take now? For BTS, and for Seungkwan?”

“A scandal like this has never existed before,” the female publicist pipes up. “Normal dating scandals can boost discussion and radio play of an artist for a short time, produce articles for a few weeks to keep their name in the media, but they can also cause negative publicity and a loss of engagement from fans. In your circumstances, I imagine these effects will be doubled. BTS will face some branding issues. Our partners and the media will associate you with homosexuality, and with Mr. Boo’s… occupation. We can expect stock drops, and for some of our partners to terminate their contracts. There will be plenty of contentious discussion, within your fanbase and outside of it—we’re predicting international media will pick up on this too.”

“International fans will be happy, though,” Namjoon says. “This is more than a scandal. This is something that hasn’t happened before in South Korea. If you ask me, this is consistent with BTS’s brand. We’re always setting new standards. The fans who know us well and understand our message won’t leave because Hyung has a boyfriend. They’ll celebrate. As long as the fans stay with us, surely we can face the other consequences?”

“Yes, that is a possible reaction,” the male publicist says. “The response will certainly be mixed. We can only handle things as they come.”

“We can’t deny the dating claim, but we can divert attention away from it. Some of the photos they took—I presume they’re of the inside of your residence?” Bang says, and with a start, Seungkwan realises he’s addressing him.

“Yes,” he says, in a small voice.

“They’re illegally taken, then, as they’re unauthorised pictures of private grounds. We can sue Dispatch and put out a statement that we’re taking every measure to protect Seokjin’s privacy.” He turns to the publicists. “Put out as much media as we can about the new dorms, the new staff, about a lawsuit against Dispatch. We want the public to talk about the privacy of idols, have them think twice about how much they talk about his private life. Mr. Boo will participate in the court case with us, and the media can talk about that instead of his life choices.”

“I was talking about keeping him safe, not putting him in front of more cameras,” Seokjin protests. “What are we going to do for him?”

“For him?” Bang says. “What do you want us to do?”

“We recommend you move out of your current residence and change your place of work,” the female publicist says to him. “Other than that, keep your head down and an eye out for photographers.”

“What?” Seungkwan says, voice dying in his throat. “I can’t uproot my whole life!”

The publicist shrugs, as if that’s his problem. “Then lay low for a little while. I’m afraid there’s not much we can offer, other than advice to stop seeing each other in public. The whole of South Korea will know about this by morning. There’s nowhere that will be private for you anymore.”

“The Golden Disk awards are this week, and then you fly to Japan for more shows,” Bang says. “You have a few days to recuperate, then Bangtan will appear together publicly, and show a strong image. This will blow over, eventually. Until then, we continue as usual. I’ll arrange to have a car take you home,” he says to Seungkwan, before standing up and effectively ending the meeting.

“You can come back with me,” Seokjin says to him quietly as Bang leaves the room. “You don’t have to go home yet.”

“Yes please,” he whispers, and Seokjin squeezes his hand, leading him from the room.

The eight of them follow the manager back out through the building, and the rest of the group don’t ask them questions. He supposes their expressions are enough explanation as to how that went down. He grasps onto Seokjin like he’s a lifeline—he does feel a little lightheaded walking down the stairs, and it doesn’t help that he’s still in his white heels, looking ridiculous poking out under the long sweatpants. They’re back in the car before they know it, and he distantly registers Jimin handing him a bag with his clothes in, reassuring him gently. He thanks him, and rests against Seokjin, and no one says anything the whole drive back.

 

They go straight into Seokjin’s room, and Seungkwan sits on the bed, feeling absent. Seokjin sits next to him.

“Are you going to call your sister and let her know where you are?”

It registers with him that he should probably do that, and he pats at his pockets for his phone, then realises that they aren’t his pockets, and he doesn’t have his phone.

“I left my phone at the Dive,” he tells Seokjin, voice hoarse.

“Here,” he says, handing his own phone over before going into the bathroom to give him some privacy. Seungkwan scrolls through the contacts until he finds Jinseol. Seokjin has a whole stream of his own missed calls and texts, including some from his parents, and one from Jinseol herself.

The phone only rings once before she picks up. “Seokjin? Is my brother there?”

“Noona…” Seungkwan starts, breathing heavily down the phone.

“Seungkwan?” she says. “Are you okay? Hoshi just called and told me the news. I’m so sorry, baby. Are you with Seokjin?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. He’s not sure why he’s whispering. He clears his throat and continues. “I’m sorry, I don’t have my phone on me. I left it at the Dive.”

“Hoshi told me. She’s headed here now to drop your stuff off; they had to close the club early. You disappeared, and then photographers were coming into the club asking around for you, and you know what the club rules are about photography. It got a little crazy, apparently.”

“Oh,” is all Seungkwan can say. “Will you—will you tell her I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want…” he trails off, and hiccups, can feel tears clawing at his throat again.

“Oh, baby, no one blames you,” Jinseol says. “It’s okay. No one’s mad. Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

“Okay, Noona.” There are tears running down his face again but he tries to cry quietly, so she can’t hear him. Seokjin comes back from the bathroom, where he’d been wiping his makeup off, and comes to sit by Seungkwan, pressing a kiss into the side of his hair and sliding his arms around his waist.

“Go to sleep, okay? It’s late. I’ll let everyone know you’re okay.”

He chokes on a humourless laugh. “I’m not really okay, but thanks.”

“No problem. I love you. Things will be alright. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Seungkwannie.”

“Goodnight.” He hangs up and hands the phone back to Seokjin, who turns it off and puts it on his bedside table.

They don’t say anything as they climb under Seokjin’s covers. Seokjin pulls Seungkwan close to him, holds him in the dark.

“Do you think BTS will be okay?” Seungkwan asks after a while. “Will this affect your popularity?”

“I don’t know. I like to think nothing can kill our trajectory at this point.”

“People will talk, though. Call you names.”

“I’m a celebrity, Seungkwannie. You think I haven’t had that before?” Seokjin rubs a hand up and down his arm, as if to keep him warm. “I’m more worried about you.”

Seungkwan lays still, blinking in the dark. “I don’t know what this means for me. It won’t be hard to find out I work at the Pink Dive; I’ve been promoting it online for the past two years. I don’t know when I’ll be able to go back there. I don’t know when Hoshi will be able to safely re-open.” He lets out a shaky breath. “Your publicist said that all of South Korea will know about us, so it won’t be long before I’m recognised at the café, too. What am I going to do?”

Seokjin is quiet for a few moments before speaking. “I don’t know. She might be expecting the worst; it’s not like I get recognised even half the time I go out. You’re only featured in a handful of blurry pictures on this one article, and your job involves you dressing up beyond recognition.”

“And I have an extensive Instagram showcasing a lot of my looks,” he points out. “I could delete my account, but it’s the internet, isn’t it? Once something’s on there, it never really goes away.”

“I don’t want this to drive you away from what you love, either,” Seokjin says. “I really hope you can continue with things as normal. Even if it’s impossible at first, it won’t be like that forever.”

Seungkwan closes his eyes. “Yeah. I hope so.”

 

-

 

He does an overhaul the next day. He’s blonde in all the article pictures, so he dyes his hair back to black, with Jinseol’s help. All the clothes and wigs featured in the article photos are taken out of his wardrobe and shoved in a box, to be left untouched until all of this is in his distant past. He goes through his Instagram and deletes the location tags on every post, though he thinks the damage is probably done by now. His follower count has jumped from 60k to over 300k overnight, and there’s a never-ending influx of comments on his posts. The few nice ones get lost in a sea of languages; Japanese and Filipino, Spanish and English, some he can’t even identify. The vile comments somehow still stand out, and he decides to delete the app for a little while.

He calls Ma and Sojeong, explains what’s going on, apologises for all the hassle they’re about to get. Calls Soonyoung, apologises for the scene at the club, messages all his friends to apologise for leaving so suddenly last night, assuring them he’s alright. Texts back the people he knows care about him, ignores those who are looking for gossip, and the whole thing leaves him drained, though he’s supposed to be on a shift in the café that afternoon. He’s not really sure what protocol to follow regarding this shift. Surely everyone at work have heard the news. Two days ago, Wonwoo was the only one there who knew about his relationship, and about Seungkwan’s drag life. He’s not afraid to face them—he’s never much cared about judgement, only wary of the way he could be treated. Maybe they’d fire him for misconduct in the workplace. One of the pictures from the article is of the two of them sat in the café, after all.

Eventually, he decides to call Wonwoo, who he knows has been working the morning shift.

“Seungkwan?” Wonwoo says as soon as they pick up the phone. “I have to be honest; I wasn’t expecting a call from you today.”

“To be frank, I’ve lost track of how many calls I’ve made this morning, so you aren’t special.”

“Good to know,” Wonwoo replies cheerily.

“You’ve had a shift this morning, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s it like in there? Am I about to have the worst five hours of my life?”

“Well, everyone’s talking about it, obviously. It doesn’t seem to be overrun in here, though. As busy as you’d expect; students looking for hangover food mostly. I don’t think anyone’s caught onto you working here. It’s just our co-workers who are talking about it.”

“Right,” he says. “Suppose it’s time to face the music, then.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Wonwoo says sympathetically. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Seungkwan sighs.

 

 

He feels like everyone is looking at him when he comes through the door. Probably because they are; no photographers leap out of the shadows to question him, but his co-workers stare like he’s been accused of murder.

“Hello!” he says brightly, clocking in and heading over to grab his apron from the hook.

“Hi,” Changkyun replies. “Nice new hair.” He’s watching Seungkwan walk around the room like he’s waiting for him to do something exciting. Maybe he’s expecting him to jump onto the counter and do a routine.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, grabbing his notebook. If he acts normal, maybe everyone else will too. He can dream. “New year, new me. Which is my section?”

For the first hour, everything goes well. He does his job as normal. He can feel Changkyun’s and Hyerin’s eyes boring into his back, can hear the co-workers he doesn’t know so well whispering in the break room, but for the most part he can ignore them. He does his job, takes orders and delivers food. Keeps his head down.

Then he gets a group of four teenage girls, sitting at his and Seokjin’s corner table, peering over at him even when he’s not serving them. He turns around from taking another table’s order to catch one of them raising her phone camera at him, unabashedly focused on him even when he spots her, her friends badly supressing their giggles. He pushes down the uneasy feeling and walks through to the kitchen to deliver the order.

When he goes to take their payment, they giggle at each other again, and nudge the tallest one until she speaks. “Are you Kim Seokjin’s boyfriend?” she asks, handing over her card.

“I’m sorry, you must be mistaking me for someone else,” he replies coolly, trying not to show how his hands are shaking as he swipes the card.

“Okay, are you Kim Seokjin’s girlfriend, then?” the girl says, and the other three snigger in delight. He hands her back the card and leaves the table without wishing them a good day. He doesn’t think he could get the words out if he tried.

Within half an hour, there’s a sudden influx of teenagers and young women in their café. He’s on his break, thankfully, so he can watch from the backroom as the place suddenly becomes twice as crammed, people trying to order food even though there’s no tables free. They keep looking around, swivelling their heads constantly, and Seungkwan has a feeling they’re not looking for their food. It’s when someone comes in and outright asks for him by name that he knows he can’t stay here any longer. It’s not like he’d be able to get much work done in this sea of stalkers.

Hyerin comes into the back room, searching for him. “Seungkwan, your break is over. We need more people out there.”

“I think they’re here for me,” he admits, already taking his apron off. “I think—I think I have to go.”

“Ah,” Hyerin says, looking at him. “Yes, that would explain it. We’ve already had four people asking after you.”

“I don’t think I’d be much help to you—I, I’m sorry,” he says, heading towards the staff door. “Can you let me know if it calms down? I’m on shifts all week, but if it’s like this—”

“Of course,” Hyerin says, showing him to the door. “I’ll take care of it all. Don’t worry. Just go home and rest, okay?”

“I will,” he says, backing out of the building. When he steps through the door, the flash of something catches his eye—there’s a girl with a camera at the other side of the parking lot, watching him through her lens as he comes out.

“Oh, jeez,” Hyerin says, spotting her too. “I would offer to drive you home, but I’m worried they’re going to drown in there.” She gestures back at the busy café.

“It’s okay,” he says, turning his back to the camera girl. “I’ll be fine. Good luck in there.” He steps out into the parking lot, headed away from the building. The girl just stands there, tracking him with her camera. It’s unnerving.

He breaks into a light jog. He doesn’t like the idea of standing around waiting for public transport—that’s just asking for people to come and find him. Seokmin and Jihoon’s shared apartment isn’t far from here, so he’ll hide out there for a few hours. Jihoon rarely ever leaves it, holed up working on his final year project, and Seungkwan needs the company right now.

The sound of shutters clicking follow him all the way down the road, but when he looks around, he can only see a busy Seoul street.

 

-

 

The Golden Disk Awards come and go. BTS rake in a handful of awards, including a Daesang, and the commentators manage to steer away from anything controversial, though Seungkwan knows what everyone watching must be thinking about when Seokjin steps forwards to say his speech.

The Pink Dive has been since New Year’s Eve. Soonyoung tells him that he’s been getting messages every day, asking after Seungkwan’s whereabouts, requests for interviews, offers to buy the club. Seungkwan’s inbox is much the same, only with many, many messages from Seokjin’s fans, and he’s given up trying to navigate it.

“You’ve put my club on the map, Seungkwannie. You’ve put the drag community in the public eye. Reporters are waking up and realising what’s going on in the heart of Seoul.”

“I didn’t mean to,” he says morosely, his head in Soonyoung’s lap. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m sorry you’re all caught up in it too.”

“Can you stop apologising?” Soonyoung reprimands him. “Nobody blames you. I’m planning to improve our security, give some firm admittance numbers and a no-camera policy to the doormen, and reopen this week. We’re putting shows on every day, because that’s what the people are expecting from the Dive now, and I’ve had enough queens message me about performing that I could fill a month’s worth of schedule. Believe me, Seungkwan, I have a feeling my club will survive the publicity.”

“If things get better for you, at least that’ll be one good outcome of all this,” he says, rolling over to look at Soonyoung’s ceiling. “I would offer to come back and perform, but that might not go well for either of us.”

“You could,” Soonyoung considers. “Just under a different name. Put on some thick makeup, and it’s not like anyone would know, with all the new queens I have lined up for the reopening week.”

“God, could I?” he asks, sitting up. It’s been nearly two weeks since New Year’s Eve, which is the longest he’s gone without performing since he started at the Queer Rite three years ago. He’s desperate to get back on stage. “I’ll buy new clothes and everything!”

“I would be thrilled to have you back, Kwannie,” Soonyoung says, stroking his hair affectionately. “How about this Thursday?”

“That’s a deal,” he says. “I’m holding you to that.”

 

-

 

He goes shopping with Jeonghan and Joshua, who help him pick out a beautiful new dress. Black and lacy, with sections cut out in racy places. Not something he’d usually go for, but it’s a new him. Or a new her, rather.

When she arrives at the club, there’s a crowd of reporters outside, at both the front door and side entrance. Soonyoung had mentioned that they’ve been there since Monday, taking pictures of anyone who could be a drag queen in the hopes of capturing the elusive Tangerina. She keeps a straight face on as she walks in with Diva on her arm, a series of flashes half blinding her as they make their way inside.

“Successful?” Hoshi asks once they’re inside.

“I presume so,” Rina says. “They were all yelling questions about Tangerina, so I hope that means they didn’t recognise me.”

“Great,” Hoshi replies. “Who are you, for tonight?”

“Jasmine,” Rina says, and Hoshi smiles at her.

“Oh, Jasmine! Long time no see! Good to see you back on the scene,” she grins. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve got for us tonight.”

“I can’t wait to get back on stage,” she says, smiling back at Hoshi. She feels like she’s sixteen years old again, looking around the club and waiting for someone to see through her façade—only this time, she has her family here. This time, she’s in her home. No one can stop her from enjoying this. She can be whoever she likes.

“You’re up after RisKey,” Hoshi says. “I hope you’re ready.”

“More ready than I’ve ever been,” she says.

The night goes smoothly, all in all. The Dive is crammed with people, and she has several patrons come up to her and ask who she is, ask her if she knows Tangerina. She sticks with Diva, and the two of them insist they’ve never heard of any Tangerina for the whole night. It’s kind of fun, sitting there right under their noses, even if it is frustrating to have people searching for her instead of focusing on the performances. Tiana has a stunning set tonight, brand new songs and a beautiful outfit made of shimmering threads decorated with a thousand beads. Rina stands on a chair to cheer for her and chant her name until Hoshi tells her to get down before she breaks something, and God, does it feel good to be back here. Diva laughs at her and claps for Tiana, and they go and get another drink each.

She’s lightly buzzed when she’s called up for her set, but it only serves to makes her more excited to greet the crowd, going up on stage and jumping in enthusiasm, getting them all riled up for her. 2NE1’s I Am The Best is a song she can’t believe she hasn’t done before, for how hyped it gets the crowd. It’s followed up by Lady Gaga’s Bad Romance, and she doesn’t often do English songs, but she knows all the words to this one, and it’s ridiculously fun to sing. It’s exhilarating to be back up here, on this stage, doing what she loves. It’s her first love, after all. If she can continue to have both Seokjin and her performances, her passion, she thinks she can deal with anything else life throws at her.

 

-

 

“How have things been there?” he asks, sitting down on his bed and propping the phone up against the pillow. Seokjin is sitting in a hotel room in Singapore, looking tired despite the grainy video call quality.

“As you’d expect,” Seokjin replies, voice tinny through the phone speaker. “Our staff are professional, so everyone talks to me the same, but it’s unnerving when I know everyone has spoken about me behind my back. They all have their own opinions, but no one will say them to me. I don’t think they’re allowed to. The only saving grace is that I have no idea if this news has made it into Taiwanese mainstream news. The fans know, but the staff we’re working with at the venue seem to have no idea.”

“The fans know?” he asks warily.

Seokjin smiles. “Yeah. When we were walking through the airport there were people shouting things. Lots of nice phrases in easy Korean, lots of _love you_ in English. I could hear them chanting my name during soundcheck earlier, too. A lot of them seem really supportive.”

Seungkwan allows himself a smile too. “That’s amazing, Hyung.”

“I’m sorry you’ve been left with the rude ones in Korea. Have you been back to work since that incident?”

“I’ve been on leave ever since then. Apparently they still get people asking after me every day, reporters sitting in and ordering the cheapest thing on the menu. It’s dying down a bit though, so I’ve been put on a shift for next Tuesday, to see how it goes. My first one for three weeks.”

“You don’t have to go back if you’re still uncomfortable. You can always quit and find another place.”

“Find what? More waiter work? Where is going to take me now that I’m so much bother? Seventeen café has always been good to me, and they’re always understaffed. I can’t leave them now. Not for selfish reasons.”

“It’s not selfish if you can barely get any work done there. You don’t have to go back into work straight away; I can support you for a while.”

“No,” Seungkwan says shortly. “I’m not taking your money, Seokjin. I’ll figure this out.”

“But how are you earning a living? If you’re only performing once a week, and you’re on leave from the café—”

“I’m fine, Hyung! I don’t need you to pay for everything! I don’t want your money!”

There’s silence for a moment, and Seungkwan immediately regrets snapping.

“I’m sorry. I’m just stressed. I know you mean well.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want to push anything on you that you don’t want. I worry about you, though.”

“Yeah. And I worry about you. An infinity of worrying.”

“Urgh,” Seokjin groans. “If only we could go back to the infinity together. That was much better.”

“If only,” Seungkwan says, fiddling with his bedsheets. “When will you be back?”

“The beginning of February, for a couple of days. Then we go to tour America.”

“Funny how you’ve only become busier since the scandal, and I became practically unemployed.”

“Yeah, well. Our company is giving us as many activities as possible until we’ve done enough to push the past behind us.” Someone raps on Seokjin’s hotel door, and he can hear the distant voice of Jungkook calling for him.

“Don’t work too hard, okay?” Seungkwan says. “I want you alive and well the next time I see you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Seokjin says, picking up the phone and bringing it closer to his face. “I love you,” he says, smooching the screen of his phone.

Seungkwan smiles. “I love you too.” He blows his own kiss. Seokjin waves at the camera, then hangs up, and Seungkwan flops back onto the bed, groaning. Another week or two, and Seokjin will be back. He just needs to survive until then.

 

-

 

He barely makes it through the door of the café before he’s approached by a man with a notepad.

“Are you Boo Seungkwan?” he asks, direct and uncompromising.

“Erm,” Seungkwan replies, startled. He edges around the man in the direction of the kitchen, glad he doesn’t have his name tag on yet. “I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to discuss personal business at work…”

“I have some questions, if you have a few minutes. I’d make it worth your time,” he says, insistent, following Seungkwan across the café.

Hyerin, tracking the interaction from the counter, calls to him. “Excuse me sir, are you here to order something? We have a buying policy if you want to sit in the cafe.”

The man watches as Seungkwan walks into the staff room to pick up his apron, and reluctantly goes to order something. Wonwoo follows him into the back.

“Hey, do you want to swap name tags?” they offer, unclipping their own from their shirt. “That might throw them off for a bit.”

Seungkwan blinks up at them. “As long as you don’t take any generous interview offers, that actually sounds like a good idea.”

“No need to sound so surprised,” Wonwoo says, holding out their tag. “I do have my moments.”

It does seem a lot less hectic than the last time he was here, and most of his customers genuinely seem to be here for the food. It doesn’t stop him from being paranoid as he takes every order, or from looking up every time someone walks in, or from swapping tables with Wonwoo whenever people who look like reporters sit in his section.

“Excuse me, are you Boo Seungkwan?” a young woman asks politely after he’s taken her order.

“No, my name is Jeon Wonwoo,” he says, patting his nametag. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

She looks at him closely, pausing for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.”

He goes through to the kitchen, exhausted. “God, these people never let up.”

“You’ve done well today, Seungkwan,” Hyerin praises. “It’s not been too bad, right? If you keep turning people away, they’ll get the message eventually, and you’ll ease back in here with no problem.” She looks back into the café and wrinkles her nose. “You can go early, if you like. I can see that woman at your table looking at you the way a vulture looks at baby bunnies.”

“Can I really?” Seungkwan says, flagging against a countertop. “I would love that.”

“Yeah, go home,” Hyerin urges. “I’ll cover your section until Changkyun gets here.”

“You’re a life saver,” he says, shaking her hand and bowing exaggeratedly. “I’ll be back tomorrow for the early shift.”

“See you then, Kwannie,” Hyerin says, saluting at him.

 

Only when he steps outside, the woman from his table is there, waiting in the customer car park he walks through to get to his bus stop. “Boo Seungkwan,” she calls, and starts walking after him.

“No thank you,” he shouts back, walking away without looking at her.

“Sir, I think you might be interested in—"

“I’m not interested in an interview, or a payment, or having my photo taken, or your business proposition.” She’s still walking behind him. “I don’t want to pass a message to Seokjin, I don’t want to give you pictures of him, I don’t want to give you BTS concert tickets. I don’t care who you’re representing, or where you’re from,” he says, whipping around to face her when he can still hear her heels clicking after him. “Can you please leave me alone?”

“So you’re frustrated at the sudden attention and angry at Seokjin for putting you in this position?” she asks, and he can see a recorder in her hand, seemingly from nowhere. “What about your workplaces? This is the first time you’ve been back in weeks, isn’t it? Have the BTS fans driven you to the brink, Mr. Boo?”

Hot anger bubbles in him, and he fights the urge to rip the recorder from her hand and throw it far away. “I won’t make any statements to the press. You do not have my permission to use any of this recording. If you post defamation about me or my boyfriend, we’ll sue you along with Dispatch,” he says. She levels him a sharp look, unmoving. When he turns to walk away from her as quickly as he can, she finally stops following him.

 

 

All the way home he’s angry and fidgety with anxious adrenaline. It’s only when he steps inside his apartment building, he realises he’s forgotten to go to the shop like he said he would, does he feel like bursting into tears. He and Jinseol are out of milk.

Don’t cry, he thinks. It’s just milk. Jinseol can get it. Don’t cry over something like that. He starts to climb the stairs to his floor, dialling Jinseol’s number.

“Hello?”

“Noona, I forgot to get the milk,” he says, and he can hear how miserable he sounds echoed down the phone line.

“That’s okay. I’ll grab some on my way back.” Jinseol had quit her job at the store a long time ago; her stage career is successful enough these days that she’s more than supporting herself on acting work alone, and she spends most of her time in rehearsals, if she’s not at her girlfriend’s place. “Is there anything else we need?”

“Alcohol,” he says stoutly, walking along the corridor towards their flat. “I need some. Hang on, I just got home, I’ll check what else we’re out of.”

He reaches into his bag for his keys, cradling his phone between his shoulder and his cheek, when he notices that he doesn’t need them. Their front door is slightly ajar. He blinks, abandoning the keys to hold his phone in his hand again. “Noona, did you shut the door before you left today?”

“What? Of course I did. It should be locked.”

“Well, it’s not,” he says, and pushes at the door. When it opens further, he can see there’s a gash in the wood, and the lock is hanging awkwardly out of place, forced open by something big and blunt. He stares at it. “Noona, I think someone’s been in our flat.”

“What?” Jinseol says, voice sharp. “Seungkwan, why do you think that?”

He doesn’t answer her straight away, because the door has swung open fully, and he’s gaping at the scene in front of him. He steps into their living room, and his shoes crunch on broken glass. He’s not sure where it’s from—it could be from the photo frames, thrown from the shelves and smashed onto the floor; it could be from the lamp, laying on its side, bulb shattered. It could be from the TV, laying on its face, a big dent in the back of it. The sofa is wrecked too: someone’s taken a knife to it, slashed it through the cushions and pulled out the stuffing. He can see their own kitchen knives scattered on the floor beside it. The small table on the other side of the room is overturned, everything on it now scattered about the floor, cold coffee staining their white rug.

“Oh fuck,” he says. “Someone’s trashed our flat. Everything is—the place is wrecked, Jinseol.”

There’s silence for a moment as she takes that in, then, “Seungkwan, you need to get out of there,” she urges. “You need to go somewhere safe, right now, in case they’re still in there. Go and hide and call the police. I’m leaving Solji’s now, so I’ll be there soon, okay? Don’t go in until the police get there. Have you got that?”

“Yeah,” he says, backing out of their doorway and starting to run towards the stairs. His heart is thumping so loudly he can barely hear her. “I will. I’m going to hide in the laundry room until you get here.”

“Good boy. Call the police, okay? I’ll be there soon.” She hangs up, and Seungkwan grips his phone like a lifeline as he runs down the stairs, past the ground floor and into the basement, where the laundry room is. It’s empty and silent, none of the machines in use. He follows his first instinct and kneels to squash himself in the corner, behind one of the big machines, tucking himself in until he knows he can’t be seen unless someone were to walk directly in front of him. He sits there, and shakes, thinks about the mess he’d seen in the apartment. Someone had forced their way into his home, his last place of refuge, only to trash it. For what? For a statement? Out of anger? Jealousy?

He fumbles with his phone and dials the emergency number, stammers his way through asking for the police.

“This is the police, what is your emergency?”

What is his emergency? He almost laughs, but he chokes on a sob instead. “Someone’s broken into my apartment.”

“Are you in the apartment now?” the operator asks.

“No, I’m hiding. I’m afraid they might still be there.”

He gives her his address, and she stays on the line with him, trying to calm him down. He tries to explain the situation, but he seems to be talking to the one person in South Korea unfamiliar with BTS, so it’s almost hilarious, the way she doesn’t comprehend the situation at all.

The door to the laundry room bangs open, and he freezes, not daring to breathe.

“Seungkwan?” Jinseol’s voice says, and he lets out a huge sigh of relief, lets himself start crying again, still crammed into the corner by the washing machine. Jinseol’s footsteps rush over to find him, and she crouches down, taking his hands in hers. “Hey, you’re safe. You’re okay, right? The police are here, they’ve gone up to look at the place. Come here.” She pulls him out of his hiding place and into her arms. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.” She pulls him up and lets him cry. They stand there together, holding each other in the silent laundry room, and Seungkwan’s face runs red with tears.

“It was so scary, Noona,” he cries into her shoulder.

“I know, Kwannie,” she says, sounding on the edge of tears herself.

When he’s calmed down somewhat, she leads him out of the laundry room, towards the elevator, and they go back up to their floor. Seungkwan clutches her hand tightly, trying to regulate his breathing as they walk back into the flat. He can hear Jinseol’s gasp as she sees the place for the first time. Two policemen are already in there, taking stock of the situation, and they look up when they enter the room.

“Is this your flat? You called for emergency services?” one of them asks Seungkwan.

“Yes,” Seungkwan says, unable to take his eyes off the shattered picture of his family.

“The room looked like this when you came in?”

“Yeah,” he sniffs. “I walked in like, fifteen minutes ago, and walked right out again. I didn’t touch anything.”

“We can’t find anyone in the apartment, so we think the perpetrator only intended to be in and out for something. How long have you been out of the apartment?”

“I left just over two hours ago,” Jinseol says.

“Do you have anything of value in here that someone could’ve been looking for?” the other officer asks. “Can you take a look around and see if there’s anything missing?”

They both comply, Jinseol accompanying Seungkwan into his bedroom first. The scene in there is worse than the living room. His entire wardrobe has been emptied and tipped on its side. His normal clothes have been strewn around the room in a furious mess; his drag clothes have been torn completely, have nail polish and clumps of concealer staining them, his makeup palettes smashed and crushed into the floor. His dressing table and mirror have also been overturned and smashed, the contents tipped out, pieces of wood littering the floor. He can see the pieces of the Totoro plushie Seokjin had won for him scattered around the room, the stuffing mixed into the mess.

He feels empty, like his heart might drop right out of him. His clothes, his passion, strewn around his room like trash. Four years’ worth of collecting and cultivating, ruined and discarded.

“I don’t think anything’s missing,” Jinseol says bitterly. “Just destroyed.”

“No,” Seungkwan says wetly, letting go of Jinseol to climb over the mess, headed towards the drawers by his bed. The first two drawers have been torn out, and he can see their contents in the mess of his belongings on the floor. The third drawer has been left in its place, as if sacred, untouched. He sits on the edge of his slashed mattress to open the drawer, and finds his suspicion confirmed. The drawer is empty, its contents the only thing looted from the room. “They did take something.”

“What is it?” Jinseol asks.

“I had a set of Seokjin’s clothes in this drawer,” he says, sliding it carefully back into place, like if he’s gentle enough, the clothes might reappear, and this might never have happened. “For when he stays overnight. I can’t see them anywhere here. I think that’s all that’s been taken.”

“Seokjin?” One of the police officers ask.

“Kim Seokjin of BTS,” Seungkwan confirms. “My boyfriend.”

He can see the police officer take in a breath, his chest puffing out. The two men look at each other, and Seungkwan can see the moment they both realise that this is more than the working-class robbery they’d imagined. He fights the urge to start laughing, thinks he might finally lose his mind if he does that.

“I’ll call for backup,” one of them says, moving out into the hallway again.

“Let’s check your room,” Seungkwan says to Jinseol, stepping back over his destroyed belongings to join her again. They both know nothing will be gone from her room, but he can’t stand to stay in here any longer.

Jinseol’s room is trashed too, but half-heartedly, like the intruder(s) had realised halfway through that this room wasn’t their real target. Her clothes and belongings have been thrown about the place, but nothing seems seriously broken or destroyed. The bathroom is similarly messy, with bottles of product spilled or smashed, but no other serious damage.

Another car full of police officers arrives, and soon, their apartment is swarming with people. A kind policewoman takes them into the hallway to ask a few questions, but he thinks it must be pretty obvious to all of them what’s happened. The policewoman takes their details, informs them that they’ll probably be contacted for further questioning soon, and tells them that they’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay, for at least a couple of days.

“Your apartment is a crime scene, so we need it for evidence,” she explains gently. “It won’t be liveable until it’s cleaned out, and we can’t let you clear anything up until we’ve looked for evidence and confirmed it’s safe in there. We’re treating this robbery as an aggressive hate crime. I’m not sure when you’ll be allowed access again.”

Seungkwan lets himself be held by Jinseol as she talks with the officer, the words washing over him. It’s hard to focus on anything when he feels so sick.

“I think you should take Mr. Boo somewhere safe and give him something to eat, try and prevent him from going into shock. Take care of yourself, too, Miss Boo.”

“Thank you,” she says, and leads Seungkwan to the elevator, through the building, and outside to her car.

“We’re going to stay at Solji’s,” Jinseol says, buckling Seungkwan into his seat like he’s a child. “She lives in a safe part of Seoul. We’re going to go there and you’re going to rest, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, staring out of the window distantly.

“Seungkwan?” she says.

He doesn’t reply.

“I’m sorry this happened to you.”

He turns to face her in disbelief. “Why are you apologising to me? I’m the one who—who brought this on you, after all,” he says, and he can feel his face creasing up. He swallows back tears.

“This isn’t your fault. You didn’t bring anything on me. I’m just trying to keep my little brother safe.”

He shakes his head and leans across the console to hug her awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” They sit there for a while, not saying anything, just holding each other.

 

 

He lies on Solji’s sofa for the next few hours, absently watching the movie she’s put on for them, head resting on Jinseol’s lap and Solji sitting on the other side of Jinseol. He calls Hyerin to tell her he can’t come in to work tomorrow, and Soonyoung to tell him he can’t perform this week, then stares at Seokjin’s contact picture. Eventually, he locks his phone and drops it on the floor, not quite ready to face that discussion. Instead, he lets himself fall asleep to the gentle strokes of Jinseol’s fingers through his hair.

He wakes up sometime later. The movie is still going, so he can’t have been asleep that long, but it’s dark outside now, and he feels hungry. Maybe it’s just a different movie. It takes him a minute to identify what had woken him up; the rumble of Jinseol’s voice, low for the late hour, as she speaks to someone on the phone.

“Yeah. The whole place was wrecked. Seungkwan’s room was the worst. His whole wardrobe was trashed. We’ll have to go out and buy him some new clothes tomorrow, once we’ve figured out where we’re staying for the foreseeable future.”

There’s a pause as the person on the other end of the line speaks. “You don’t have to do that, Seokjin. This isn’t your fault either. We can manage. We might go back to Jeju for a bit.”

Seungkwan shifts and sits up at the mention of Seokjin’s name, pulling the blanket close around his shoulders and looking at her expectantly. Jinseol looks back at him with a soft smile. “He’s just woken up, actually. I’ll pass you over.”

Seungkwan takes the phone from his sister and stands up, shuffling into the kitchen for some semblance of privacy. “Hi, Hyung.”

“Hi, Seungkwan,” Seokjin says, soft and quiet. “I hear it’s been a rough day for you.”

Seungkwan sighs. “Yeah, it’s not been great. How did you hear about it?”

“The police called,” Seokjin sighs. “To tell me my belongings had been stolen, and that I was part of an investigation into a robbery. It was surprising, to say the least.”

He sniffs, settling onto one of Solji’s barstools. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been the first one to tell you. There’s just so much going on. I’m still processing it.”

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”

“It’s been pretty shit,” he confirms. “I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I know myself. I’ve never been to Solji’s apartment before, you know. Makes this whole thing feel even more surreal. Like it didn’t really happen.”

“Will you be staying there?”

“I don’t know. They said they need our apartment for an indefinite amount of time. I wouldn’t feel safe going back there anyway. We can’t freeload on Solji forever. I can’t go back to Jeju, though. Everyone on that island must know my name by now. Maybe I’ll go and stay with Hansol—I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“I said this to Jinseol, but you can come and stay with me,” Seokjin says. “We’re flying back to Korea a few days early because the police want me to come into the station. We have the most secure apartment in Seoul, and I can buy you back everything that was destroyed. I know you want to be your own person, Seungkwan, but let me be your boyfriend, too. Let me take care of you.”

Seungkwan puts a hand up to his face, rubbing at his eyes. He’s so tired. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Seokjin says. “That didn’t take as much convincing as I thought.”

“Must be your charm,” Seungkwan says, quietly. “And your really nice apartment.”

“You see, I knew I had assets to offer as a boyfriend,” Seokjin says, teasing gently.

Seungkwan allows himself a small smile. “Yeah. You do have some good aspects.”

“Good to know,” Seokjin says, so softly.

He sighs. “I should go to bed. I’m wiped.”

“You do that. Text me when you wake up.”

“I will.”

“Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you too. Night.”

 

-

 

The members of BTS greet him warmly, offering hugs and condolences as he moves in with his single bag of belongings. He can practically feel the guilt radiating off all of them, as if they should be able to control each and every fan, as if they could’ve foreseen the events of the last month in any way.

The news about the robbery gets out less than fourty-eight hours after it happens. Seokjin thinks Big Hit are the one who leaked it, as a sympathy tactic for Seungkwan and Seokjin. There’s only a handful of people who know, he reasons, and they trust that their friends and family wouldn’t have gone to the press. Regardless of who’d leaked it, it puts their names back in the media with a new vigour, causing the Pink Dive to shut for a few nights, and for him to be back on indefinite leave from the café.

He’s only been out once since the break in, to buy some more clothes with Jinseol, and it had been awful. The knowledge that someone so destructive and vengeful had been so close to him puts him on edge, makes him jump at every sound and stick close to her, clingier than before. While he stays with Seokjin, Jinseol is continuing to stay with Solji, so he has absolutely nothing to do but sit around in this fancy apartment and rebuy all his belongings, try to fool Seokjin into believing he’s sleeping at night, take calls from friends and ignore the ones from acquaintances. Seokjin has dance practise and company meetings and other responsibilities to attend to before BTS goes back to America, though he tries to stay at home as much as he can, to keep Seungkwan company. It’s lonely, but it’s better to do it all in Seokjin’s empty apartment rather than under Jinseol’s anxious watch.

Just in time for Seokjin to leave for America, the police call to tell him he can have his apartment back. He thanks them, hangs up the phone, and bursts into tears. Being in this awful limbo has been trying, not knowing where he’s living and not owning much anymore, but the reality of going back to that apartment is worse. The police don’t seem to have any guesses as to who the perpetrator is, haven’t made any arrests; the person who ruined his home is still out there, and they still know where he lives.

“You can’t go back to that apartment,” Seokjin says, cradling Seungkwan in his arms as he cries. “It’s out of the question. I’ll tie you to this bed if I have to.”

“Kinky,” Seungkwan splutters out between his sobs. “Fuck, Hyung, what am I going to do? I can’t stay in your empty apartment. I’ll go crazy. I’ll have to go back to Jinseol, or something.”

“And sit around in Solji’s apartment, putting yourself on edge all the time?” Seokjin asks, cupping Seungkwan’s face in his hands and looking at him with worry.

“What else is there for me to do?”

“Come with us.”

Seungkwan sits back, wiping at his tears. “What?”

“We go to America tomorrow for the Grammy’s, then we start touring the US. We both know you need to get away from this city for a while. You deserve a break. Come with us. They always book plenty of seats for staff, so there’s space for you on the plane.”

“On tour with you? Where more of your fans are?” He almost laughs in Seokjin’s face.

“Our security is good, and you’ll see how many people support us, Seungkwan. Especially in America. They might actually treat you like a human being there. You can stay in the hotel rooms all the time, if you want. But I’d like to have you there.”

Seungkwan sways uncertainly. He’s never been abroad, and being able to get away for a while, to see Seokjin’s life up close, is very tempting. “What about your company? I’ll get in the way, won’t I?”

“I don’t care what they say,” Seokjin says, and Seungkwan thinks he’s never sounded more certain about anything. “I’m allowed to bring someone on tour. It’s my goddamn tour. I’ll take care of everything, don’t worry.”

Seungkwan nods and leans back into him. “Okay, then. I’ll come.”

 

-

 

When they land in California, the first thing he notices is the heat. It’s not overwhelmingly hot, but a lot warmer than South Korea, which is still easing out of the winter temperatures. No wonder Seokjin told him he should wait and buy some new clothes when they arrive.

The second thing he notices is the crowds. He knows Bangtan are internationally popular, but in an abstract way, through YouTube videos and web reports and seeing BTS albums selling out online—this is the real-life evidence. He’s taking the side exit with the rest of the staff, while the other seven boys stride through the main entrance out of the airport, surrounded by bodyguards and screaming fans. They don’t mob the boys, though, not in the way he expects. From what he can see, sat waiting from the big rented car, the fans are holding a purple ribbon between them, a thin piece of material that they’ve all agreed to stand behind, waving at the boys. It’s still a crush in there, full of excitable people and a huddle of men trying to push through, but nobody leaps at Seokjin, and nobody is yelling hateful things, as far as he can make out. When the band finally make it to the car, it’s without a scratch on them. Seungkwan lets out a breath of relief as Seokjin slides into the seat next to him.

“Alright, we’re going to get you settled in at the hotel, then you’ve got the rest of the day to yourselves,” their manager says. “Press tour and Grammy’s prep starts tomorrow, so make the most of it. Who needs to be taken somewhere?”

Yoongi and Jungkook say they want to stay at the hotel, while Namjoon and Taehyung are interested in an exhibit. Hoseok and Jimin request to be dropped off at mall for clothes shopping.

“What do you want to do?” Seokjin murmurs to him.

“I really need some more clothes,” he says. Seokjin grins.

“We’ll come shopping with you guys. Seungkwannie needs something for the red carpet, anyway.”

 

 

“But are you sure?” Seungkwan asks again, holding up a beautiful, long gown against himself and looking at it in the mirror. “Aren’t I intruding?”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but you are definitely invited. The invites specified we are all allowed a plus one, and Big Hit can’t ban that. You’re my plus one.”

Seungkwan hooks the dress back into place on the stand. “The biggest event I’ve ever been to is Seoul Pride, six months ago, and now you’re taking me to the Grammys, Seokjin. The Grammys!”

“I just want to show you off,” Seokjin says, and Seungkwan swats at him half-heartedly.

“I was not prepared for this. I don’t have makeup or anything.”

“We can go and get that next. Did you like that dress? I think it’s nice.”

Seungkwan shoots him a look. “It needs to be a bit better than ‘nice’ if I’m going to the Grammys in it.”

“Alright, how about this one?” he handles a midnight blue dress, tiny gems embedded all over making it twinkle under the store lighting. They’re the only ones in this very expensive store, and the clerk is watching them under a veil of vague politeness.

“It’s beautiful,” he sighs. “Very Cinderella.”

“Do you want to get it? Our stylists can make it fit if it isn’t a good match.”

He snorts. “Yeah, so can I. I have experience in these things, you know. They don’t exactly make dresses for my body type.” He picks the dress up from the hanger, along with the one he was looking at before. “Now, do you have enough English to ask if I can try these on?”

 

-

 

She sits next to Seokjin and watches through the window as the car inches through the California streets. There are people crowded everywhere around them, she’s dressed in the biggest dress she’s ever worn, and she’d spent most of the day trying to do her makeup with all new brushes and products. Now she’s waiting for the car to pull up and for BTS to be announced, so that she can walk the red carpet with Seokjin. It’s surreal; only three days ago she was holed up in his Seoul apartment, hiding away from the media, and now she’s here, about to put herself in the middle of the highest-profile music event in the world.

“Are you ready?” Seokjin asks quietly. The car turns a corner and the red carpet comes into view.

“I’m ready,” she says, pulling herself into a straight-backed posture. “Ready to show Tangerina to the world, on my own terms.”

Seokjin smiles at her, his eyes crinkling up with affection. “Good. You deserve this.” The car comes to a stop, and the door slides open. Namjoon and Jimin step out first, Jimin looping his arm around Namjoon’s elbow, the two of them walking down the carpet together like a couple. Jimin is giggling to himself, and if they were anyone else Rina would think them to be teasing her; because it’s those two, she knows that it’s only to try and help Seokjin and her feel more comfortable, and she’s grateful for it.

Seokjin steps out next, offers Rina his arm as she hitches up her gown to step carefully out of the car. She’d gone for the blue dress, and she feels like a princess in it, the ruffles and puffy skirts making her feel regal and beautiful. She latches onto Seokjin, and they start to walk down the carpet together. She’s vaguely aware of the other four boys getting out behind them, but it’s easier to notice the horde of reporters up and down the carpet, the crowds of fans screaming Seokjin’s name, the photographers and cameras pointed their way. She holds her head up high and walks forwards with confidence—she can even hear some of the fans shouting her name. Both of her names. She smiles and waves, and they scream back with enthusiasm, and she feels a warm rush in her chest.

Seokjin looks at her, a big smile on his face, and she smiles right back, her brown curls bouncing in the corner of her vision. Ahead of them, Jimin and Namjoon are posing in front of photographers, holding each other like they’re having their school prom picture taken. Seokjin laughs at them from the side, and it makes the two of them crack, laughing at each other and moving further down the carpet, leaving the space for the two of them to inhabit next. They come to a halt in front of the photographers, who are all shouting directions, but she tries to ignore them and focus on posing with Seokjin. They stand together, his arm around her waist, turning to look both ways. Seokjin leans over and whispers in her ear.

“Want to do a silly one?”

She grins and nods, and turns her back to the cameras so she can look over her shoulder at them dramatically. Seokjin does the same, the two of them posing like they’re on a movie poster, then suddenly he drops down and puts a knee up, patting it. She takes the hint, props her foot up on his knee and puts her hands together as if praying, eyes closed and skirts nearly obscuring Seokjin’s face. It only takes a couple of seconds for her to break character and starts laughing, putting her foot back on the floor and helping Seokjin up. The four members behind them are stood to the side, laughing at them, though they take up their positions once Seokjin and Rina move away.

After that, she sticks by manager Sejin, as the boys move down the carpet together to take group photos and talk to the press as a band. Sejin leads her inside, to the table the boys have been given, and she even has her own name card in front of her seat. Well, it says BTS +1, but it’s still exciting. The hall is huge, and she can hear the fans screaming in the seats behind her as various other attendees take their places at the tables. When she turns around to look at them, there’s a sudden increase in screams, and she looks around for the celebrity they’re screaming for. She can’t see many famous people in here, mostly staff and other plus ones who’d left their celebrity companions to answer questions on the red carpet. She turns back to the crowd of seated fans again, and they scream, and she realises that it’s for her. She raises a hand to wave timidly, and they scream louder, and she can’t help but laugh, cover her mouth with her hand. It’s unbelievable, that they would recognise her at this distance, but they do, and she turns away smiling, not sure how to handle all the love.

Bangtan come in a little while later. She gushes over how nice their fans are and the boys smile at her knowingly. Jimin informs her that there’d been a few questions about Seokjin’s guest on the carpet, and Seokjin had blushed at every compliment, every well wish from interviewers. She laughs and leans into him, and the fans behind them scream again. She blushes a little herself.

They’d been nervous to present the award, and she’d witnessed them all practising the announcement in their hotel room over and over earlier that day, and they still manage to fuck it up. She can see Namjoon holding in a laugh up on the stage, and tries to suppress her own giggles.

Back at the hotel, the boys do a livestream while she sits in the corner of the room with her champagne and tries not to laugh too loud. She’d thought touring abroad might be lonely—she’d often asked Seokjin if he gets homesick when he’s away for months. Now she understands how it’s alright, actually, being so far away from home. These seven have each other, and they’re a family. They’re home away from home for Seokjin. And now for her, too.

 

-

 

Their American leg of the tour kicks off a few days later, a round of US stops to round up the year-long world tour before their new album is to be released. The group are simultaneously practising new choreography and rehearsing their old setlist, renting out a studio in LA to work up to their first show at the Rose Bowl. He spends his time sat at the back of the room, watching them and shouting encouragements, once or twice getting up to attempt the choreography himself. Seokjin joins in and they bounce around the room to Anpanman, making the others laugh despite their exhaustion.

Soundcheck and rehearsal are even more fun. The stadiums are huge, and they seem even bigger when they’re devoid of people. Standing on the stage while the boys are getting wired up to mics, he yells into the huge empty space, listens to it echo and gets chills. This is Seokjin’s day to day life, playing places like this, having every seat filled with fans who scream his name and know all the words to all his songs, even if they don’t speak Korean. He still can’t really believe their worlds have met, and that he’s here, witnessing it from Seokjin’s passenger seat.

His boyfriend is a little behind the rest of the group as they come up to the stage to practise their opening song, so Seungkwan moves over to Seokjin’s spot and starts following through with his choreography. Namjoon laughs at him from his side, and Seokjin comes running up, playfully pushing Seungkwan away. He does a walk around the stadium while they practise, watching the rehearsal from an empty auditorium seat.

There’s no private box sectioned off for this show, but a few seats in the stands are reserved, so he sits there with some of the staff members to watch the show. As they’re sat waiting for the show to start, Seungkwan clutching his light stick, someone taps him on the shoulder.

The girl behind him asks him something in English, but he can hear “Jin’s boyfriend?” at the end, so he nods back at her, a little warily. She asks him something else—his English isn’t this bad usually, it’s the attention making him nervous—but when she holds up her phone on selfie mode, he understands what she’s asking for. He shuffles closer to her, and she leans into the frame and smiles, the two of them posing with the peace sign.

“Thank you!” she says, sitting back in her seat, and he nods at her, settling back into his own. He smiles and looks down at the light stick, which has changed colour in anticipation of the band’s arrival on stage.

He’s quick to lose himself in the concert, like he had in Seoul, not caring who looks as he jumps up and down and sings as loud as he can to his heart’s content. The crowd here sing the English lines with a lot more confidence than most of the Korean lines. It’s cute.

The staff usher him out when they’re at the final number, ready to flee the stadium. Once the fireworks go up, Bangtan and the essential staff run to the cars before they can get stuck in the huge crowd of people leaving. He sits in the car and waits, and the seven of them come running into the car as the screams echo from the stadium, smelling of sweat and high on adrenaline. The seven of them sing loudly all the way back to the hotel, not ready to let the atmosphere go.

 

 

He’s lying in the hotel bed, waiting for Seokjin to be done in the shower, when Chan sends him the link. It’s a link to twitter; when he opens it, he comes to a tweet that says something in English—he can make out his own name, and Seokjin’s, and ‘sat near’. Attached is a video with a whopping 800k views and steadily rising. It’s about thirty seconds of him jumping up and down and singing to one of the songs from the concert. It has over ten thousand retweets and thirty thousand likes.

He stares at the tweet in disbelief, and against better judgement, scrolls down to the replies. Most of them are in English, but uses the translate feature gives him a rough idea of what they’re saying. _He’s so cute_ , _he’s so excited_ , _Jin is so lucky_. Seokjin? The lucky one? Maybe he’d better get Namjoon to tell him what these actually say.

Seokjin comes padding out of the bathroom and flops onto the bed, still damp. “What’s that?”

“A video of me,” Seungkwan says, still bemused. “I’m just jumping and cheering, but it’s doing some big numbers.”

“Yeah, cause it’s cute,” Seokjin says.

“How is it cute?”

“Look at you! Your jumping is so cute. And the fact that you blend in with the fans. They like that sort of thing.”

“Shut up,” he says, laughing.

“I’m serious! Jumping is cute! You should search your name on twitter. I’ve seen a bunch of your videos circulating online since January.” He stands up again to towel off his hair.

Seungkwan looks back down at his phone. He’s barely been on social media since New Year’s, assuming nothing on there was worth his time or self-esteem to look at, but he’s never been very active on twitter, and Seokjin has piqued his interest. He carefully searches the English spelling of his name, and his jaw drops to see the first result is a tweet with the video of him on the pole, with over five million views. As he scrolls down there are more videos, mostly taken from his Instagram, accompanied with long paragraphs, assumedly English speakers stating their opinions on Seokjin’s relationship. Some tweets have old pictures of him, others have facts that some too-attentive fans have dug up; his birthday, his birthplace, his failed degree and subsequent work in the Dive. There’s a lot of people tweeting the video from this evening; one says PROTECT BOO SEUNGKWAN!!!

It massively unexpected and entirely heart-warming to see all this public support. It’s nice to know that not everyone looks at him and sees a joke, or a gold digger, or a disgrace, as comments on articles were calling him before he went offline.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Seungkwan says over his shoulder to Seokjin, who finishes towelling his hair off and climbs into the bed behind Seungkwan.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I suppose we do have people who support us.”

“Of course we do,” Seokjin says, leaning over to kiss him on the mouth. “I just couldn’t protect you from the ones that don’t. And I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job of it now,” he smiles, and raises his head a little to give him a kiss back. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good,” Seokjin says. “Did you have another nightmare last night?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “But at least I’m sleeping now. It’s progress.”

“It’s something,” Seokjin says. “You can stay with me as long as you want, you know. There’s the comeback period in April, then we tour until June, and if you want to be here every step of the way you’re more than welcome.”

“Thank you,” Seungkwan says, rolling over to turn off the lamp, then rolling back into Seokjin’s arms. “I’ll let you know. I can’t run away from my life forever.”

“I know you won’t,” Seokjin says softly. “I’ve never known you to back away from a challenge.”

Seungkwan smiles against Seokjin’s bare skin. “Yeah. It’s not in my nature.”

 

-

 

America is very different from home, but he doesn’t find it hard to adapt to his new surroundings. Seeing new cities is exciting, and he goes out with Seokjin at nearly every tour stop. One of the make-up Noonas gets sick somewhere around New Jersey, and Seungkwan finds he’s able to step in and help out with what he knows. Jimin giggles as he applies a soft eyeshadow, but then compliments him on his colour choice, and after the show that day Taehyung requests for him to have his makeup done properly, the way Seungkwan would dress up for a show. Seungkwan gives him the whole deal—glues down his eyebrows to give him high, arched brows, painting big, dramatic eyeshadow up into his crease, heavy red lipstick covered in glitter to emphasise his pretty lips. He’s picked up some good wigs and dresses at their various stops so far and gives Taehyung something he can fit into; a beautiful black dress that shows off his thighs, wig styled off to the side, a fur coat slung over his shoulders. Taehyung proceeds to strut around the hotel as if the look has transformed him into a young, single, rich heir, holding out his arms pretentiously and tapping his heels on any hard floor surface he can find. Jimin and Hoseok lose it, taking a thousand pictures, but Taehyung is thriving. Perhaps in another life they could’ve worked in the Dive together.

Then there’s another round of press, the boys preparing for performances on shows that are popular in America. Or at least, he assumes they are. He’s only heard of the Ellen show. It gives him a lot of free time; New York is up next, and he knows how the drag culture there thrives, is aware of how many famous clubs and queens are from there. Stonewall is in New York, for fucks sake, he can’t go there and not check out the gay scene.

He says it to Seokjin expecting him to hate the idea, but Seokjin is pleasantly enthusiastic. He says that while they get recognised by fans in America, they rarely get recognised by reporters or paparazzi.

“Besides, at this point, I think getting spotted in a gay club won’t shock anyone.”

So Rina dresses up in one of her new outfits and the two of them head out. It takes them a while to find the gay club they’re headed to, but it’s worth it when they arrive; the place is buzzing with positive energy, groups of people dancing, a crowded bar. They play songs she doesn’t know for the most part, but it’s easy to get out on the dance floor and enjoy herself regardless, especially when Seokjin starts up his signature club moves. She laughs and joins him in headbanging to Madonna, getting a few bystanders to join in with them. She thinks she gets a few compliments about her dress, too, though it’s hard to tell with the language barrier and deafening music.

At some point in the night, a song comes on, and she and Seokjin share a look of delighted disbelief. Impossibly, Gangnam Style has started playing. It’s like a gift from God, or something; a dance she can do, to the most famous song from her country, playing in this random New York gay club. She rolls with it, as does Seokjin, and while everyone else also knows the chorus choreography, they make a bit of a scene doing the complete dance between the two of them.

“ _Ayy, sexy lady_!” Seokjin shouts, pointing at her, and she laughs, wiggling her butt to the dance.

 

They hit up a pizza place afterwards, getting something big and greasy to share, and the guy at the counter barely blinks at them. It’s a novelty she thinks she could get used to.

“Did Big Hit tell you?” she asks, chewing on her third slice.

“About what?” Seokjin asks.

“They’ve set a date for the Dispatch lawsuit hearing. I think your company managed to get it fast tracked, because it’s set for two weeks’ time.”

“Oh, yeah, they did. They’re taking us back to Seoul for it in between the South American and European dates.”

She nods. “When we go back for the case hearing, I think I’m going to stay in Korea. Find a place to stay, start rebuilding my life. Being here with you has been so much fun, Seokjin, but I think I need to go back and focus on myself for a little while. Figure out what I’m doing rather than putting it off for much longer.”

Seokjin nods. “Okay. If you think you’re ready, then I agree. It’s been fun to have you on tour, though. Meant I didn’t miss you so much.” He blushes even as he says it.

“Aww,” she smiles, cupping his cheeks. “You mean you miss me when you’re gone?”

He shakes his head. “No, I just miss the Dive. Having you around is like a non-stop performance.”

“Hey!” she says, and picks a slice of pizza up to threaten him with. “I’m a walking ray of sunshine!”

“You’re the loudest ray of sunshine I’ve ever met,” Seokjin remarks, and she brings the pizza back over her shoulder as if to throw it at him. He backs up in his seat, putting his hands up to shield his face. “Okay! Okay! A real ray of sunshine, your highness!”

“Good,” she says, satisfied, putting the pizza in her mouth. “Are you up for another round of clubbing before we go back to the hotel? I’ve decided I love New York. I could party all night.”

Seokjin nods agreeably. “Anything for you, princess.”

 

-

 

He stays at Seokjin’s apartment the night before the hearing, walks into court the next day with his heart practically thumping out of his chest. He doesn’t have to do much but sit there and confirm that the pictures are of him, they were indeed taken of the inside of his flat, and that he did not consent to them. Still, he feels nerves badly the whole time, and grips onto Seokjin’s hand between their seats for support. He needn’t have worried; Big Hit have hired the best lawyers, and Dispatch know they’re in the wrong. The case is an easy victory, with a pay-out granted to Seungkwan and Seokjin, as well as six months jail time for the photographer. The payment is probably nothing to Seokjin, but to him, it’s more than enough to buy a new flat for himself, to be out of work for the indefinite future and not have to worry about finances, to buy himself back his belongings without worrying about the cost. It doesn’t make up for the past two months of anxiety and heartache, the complete loss of privacy and subsequent harassment he’s suffered, but at least it’s a nice safety net under the tightrope he’s been walking so far.

Seokjin pulls him through the crowd of reporters outside and back into the company car, asks their driver to drive far enough for them to stop and eat somewhere they won’t be found. Only they don’t make it very far; Seungkwan gets a call from the police station, asking him to come in as soon as possible and discuss some new evidence regarding the break-in. They turn the car around and head straight there.

“Sir?” Seungkwan asks as soon as they’re directed to the detective leading the case. “I hear you have new evidence?”

“Correct. We’ve made two arrests in relation to your case.”

“Two?” Seungkwan asks. There were two people behind this?

“We had an individual come into the station this morning and confess to leaking your address to Miss Kim Boyoung. Upon arrest, we discovered Kim Seokjin’s missing items in her residence, and her DNA matches the DNA traces found at your residence. Do you know her?”

“I’ve never heard that name,” he says. “I don’t think so.”

The detective nods. “We’re working now to investigate whether the informant was an accessory, or if he was a participant at the scene of the crime, too. We’ve asked you here to get confirmation that he’s a friend of yours. If he is, that’ll make analysing evidence of his presence at your flat more complicated.”

“Who is it?” Seungkwan asks, his heart in his throat.

“His name is Lee Seokmin.”

“S-Seokmin?” Seungkwan stutters. “You’re saying Seokmin sold me out? I’m sorry, but there must be a mistake.”

The officer looks at him with a grim expression. “He’s in the interrogation room now, if you’d like to speak to him. He’s been asking to see you since he came in.”

Seungkwan only nods his confirmation, as his throat feels like it’s closed up, and maybe won’t ever open again. They follow the detective down a hall to an interrogation room. When he’s asked if he wants someone in there with him, he shakes his head firmly. Seokmin would never hurt him. There must be a mistake.

“Are you sure?” Seokjin asks, carefully.

Seungkwan nods his head. “I won’t be long. I just need to figure out what’s going on.”

The detective opens the door for him, and sure enough, Lee Seokmin is sitting there, in handcuffs, tear tracks on his face. He immediately sits up straight when he sees Seungkwan.

“Knock on the door when you’re ready to come out,” the detective says, and Seungkwan nods, letting the door be shut and locked on the two of them.

“Seokmin?” Seungkwan says, sitting down in the cold metal chair opposite Seokmin. “What is all this?”

“Seungkwan, you have to know that I never meant to hurt you, I never thought she would do all that, I never wanted you to be scared or—or upset—” Seokmin cuts himself off by bursting into tears, but Seungkwan can’t bring himself to comfort him.

“What are you saying?” he asks.

“She—she’s not what I thought—"

“So you did give her my address?” Seungkwan says, staring at him, sat stock still. “The girl who trashed my place. Did you sell my details to her?”

Seokmin’s frame trembles with his crying as he shakes his head frantically. “No, no I would never! I don’t know what I was thinking, but I was so caught up in my own feelings, she said she just wanted to go in quickly and see if Seokjin had anything there—”

“And how did you think she was going to get in, Seokmin? Knock on my door and ask to take his belongings politely?” Seungkwan snaps, trying to hold back his own tears. This is unfathomable. He believes Seokmin when he says he meant no harm; Seokmin wouldn’t willingly hurt a fly. But he’s not making sense, talking about giving out Seungkwan’s address like it’s nothing, like it’s so easy to give up his friend’s details, even when he was enduring such a difficult time.

“I don’t know, but she’s always been so understanding, Seungkwan, you have to understand! I believed everything she told me! You know how much I like BTS, and I was so happy for you and Seokjin, but I felt so bad too, I felt like I could never compete with you. I’ve always thought that you’re so funny and—and beautiful—” He sniffles and tries to wipe at his face, but the handcuffs keep him attached to the table between them. “Her—her sister is dating one of the members of GOT7, I think, and we bonded over the feeling of being second best. When she said she wanted to take Seokjin’s belongings, I thought, that—it’s not like you’ll miss it, not when you have Seokjin all to yourself. I think I wanted to get back at you, or something. I don’t know, Seungkwannie, I don’t know—I regretted it as soon as I sent it, I told her to forget about it and not bother you. But then she stopped talking to me. I heard that your flat was trashed the next day, and I felt so sick at the thought that you or Noona could’ve been hurt. I’m so sorry, Seungkwannie. I’m really sorry. If I could take it all back, I would.” Seokmin takes a heavy breath, clearly struggling to keep his sobbing under control.

Seungkwan hasn’t moved since he’d sat in the chair. He closes his eyes, feels his own wet eyelashes rest against his cheeks, and moves to sit forwards in the chair, coming eye to eye with Seokmin.

“Seokmin, I have never been more scared in my life than when I was sat in the laundry room, thinking someone could come in at any moment to hurt me. Did you see the state of my flat, Seokmin? Did they show you any pictures of what it looked like?”

Seokmin shakes his head slowly, hiccupping.

“It was more than trashed. It was ruined beyond fixing. She’d used our knives to slash apart our furniture. She’d smashed pictures, broken the TV, ripped apart every single piece of drag clothing I owned and thrown it around the room. I thought this person wanted to kill me, Seokmin, and I’ve barely been sleeping for the past month because of it. I gave you my trust, I gave you my secrets, I brought you to Seokjin’s concert and I introduced you to him because I thought you were one of my closest friends. You could’ve warned me the second you sent her that address, you could’ve told me who it was after you’d heard the news, you could’ve given her up to the police at any point until now, but instead, you let me be terrified.”

He stands and looks down at Seokmin, who just sits there, trembling, fresh tears dripping down his cheeks. “You’re supposed to be my friend, but you sold me out, scared me half to death, and it’s breaking my heart. Being upset or jealous isn’t enough of a justification for any of that.”

“I’m so sorry, Seungkwan,” Seokmin whispers.

Seungkwan doesn’t have anything else to say. He can’t accept his apology. Not yet. He walks to the door and knocks on it, and a second later there’s the rattle of a key in the lock as it’s opened by an officer outside. Seungkwan can’t leave the room fast enough, the sound of Seokmin’s crying being shut out behind him. Seokjin emerges from the next room a second later—he must’ve been watching through the attached room behind the two-way mirror. He doesn’t say anything, but comes to embrace him in a hug, and Seungkwan weeps into his suit jacket, shaking in his hold.

 

-

 

He finds a new place quickly and moves in with Jihoon, who’s desperate to cut ties with Seokmin, despite a few months of his last school term still being left. Jinseol only puts up an argument for as long as it takes for Seungkwan to reason that he knows she would much rather stay living with Solji. It’s pretty obvious to the both of them, and she’s too old to be living with her little brother, anyway. His drag family come around to help them move in the new furniture, which is kind of hilarious, since Jihoon, Chan and Jun are the only ones with any real upper body strength. Most of the furniture ends up in their hands while Seungkwan and Soonyoung do things like changing the settings on the TV and setting up the speakers. Minghao at least attempts to put a shelf up for them, and Soonyoung snaps into action once Chan starts whining at him, moving to help him assemble the bed in Seungkwan’s room.

When everything is in the flat and at least halfway unpacked, they stop working and order food together.

“You know, it’s a good thing you came back just in time,” Soonyoung says, shovelling an alarming amount of noodles into his mouth in one go.

“Just in time for what?” Seungkwan asks, sipping at his beer and looking at him over the rim of the bottle.

Soonyoung and Chan look at each other before he replies. “Well, since you’ve been gone, the Dive has kind of been thriving, Seungkwannie. It wasn’t just five minutes of fame; thanks to you and Seokjin, every gay in South Korea knows the name of our club.”

“Then something good did come out of all this, I suppose. Have the reporters stopped coming in?”

“Yeah, it’s really just the people who want to be there now,” Soonyoung says, as if surprised himself. “And it gave me an idea.”

“Oh no,” Seungkwan says. “Why is this good news?”

“Hey! It’s a great idea!” Soonyoung protests.

“It was actually my suggestion,” Chan says.

“Of course,” Soonyoung says, kissing the side of his head reassuringly. “It was Chan’s great idea.”

“So, what is it?” Seungkwan asks, eyeing them up suspiciously.

“We want to move to Busan together,” Soonyoung says. “Buy a building there and open a second Pink Dive. I’m thinking maybe the Purple Dive, the Pink Swim, something like that. It’s a work in progress, right now.”

“We want to get a loan and start doing more in the gay club business,” Chan takes over in explaining. “All of us have been contacted by people asking if we’re thinking of expanding, saying they want to come to the Dive, but it’s too far for them. There are surprisingly few gay clubs in Busan. We could bring a new one to the people there, give them a safe space to come and be with their friends, somewhere they can be themselves.”

“Oh my God,” Seungkwan says. “That’s an amazing idea! You really think you can? When I met you guys you were barely staying afloat!”

“Yeah, I really think it’s possible now,” Soonyoung says, beaming. “Anyway, we’ve asked Minghao and Jun to manage the Dive here while we’re gone, and they’re already on board. There was only you left to ask.”

Seungkwan pauses for a second, not sure if he’s understanding properly. “Me? What do I know about managing a club?”

“An awful lot, actually,” Minghao butts in. “You’ve covered for Soonyoung more than once, haven’t you? You don’t think we’re capable of doing this together? Three of us have to make up one Soonyoung, surely.”

“I’d still be able to help you from Busan,” Soonyoung says. “And I’ll teach you about the financial side before we go. But I know the three of you are more than capable.”

Seungkwan puts down his bowl of food and blinks a few times. Manage the Pink Dive? It sounds scary, but also like a purpose; like something he could throw all of his energy into and believe in, wholeheartedly. Like something that matters. And he wouldn’t be alone, not with Jun and Minghao at his side, with Soonyoung and Chan only a call away.

“Okay,” he agrees. “On one condition.”

“What condition?” Chan asks, grinning at him expectantly.

“You don’t take out a loan. I can give you the money, and you won’t get caught up in a shitty repayment scheme that way. You would not believe how much Big Hit sued Dispatch for; it’s more than I could ever need, and Seokjin gave me his amount too, because he said he didn’t want it. But what the hell am I going to do with it? God, this is perfect—we can actually put it back into something good. Also, don’t call it the Pink Swim. That’s a stupid name.”

“Seungkwan—we can’t take your money, oh my God,” Chan starts, but Seungkwan is already up out of his seat.

“Wait there, I’m going to write you a cheque right now,” he says, rummaging through the bags.

“Seungkwan, we can’t!” Soonyoung says. “Are you crazy?”

“No, Hyung, you can’t refuse this! You know it makes sense!” he replies, pulling out his cheque book and coming back into the room. Jihoon laughs at him when he realises he has to go back again to find a pen.

“Seungkwan, you can’t be serious—” Soonyoung protests weakly, but Seungkwan puts a hand up to hush him as he scribbles on the paper. He tears it from the book and hands it over to Soonyoung. Chan leans over his shoulder and they both stare at it, then look at each other, then back up at him.

“Will you take it? Please?” Seungkwan says, kneeling on the floor in front of them. “I want you to have it. I can think of nowhere better to put this money.”

Soonyoung and Chan look at each other and have a quick unspoken conversation, the way couples seem to be able to. Then again, the two of them could do that long before they were together. “Alright, we’ll take it. But you’ll get every penny back, I swear,” Soonyoung says, looking at Seungkwan earnestly.

“I believe you, Hyung,” Seungkwan says, beaming.

“Thank you so much,” Chan says, leaning over to hug him. “This will make everything easier.”

“You know I’d do anything I can to help you guys out,” Seungkwan says, accepting the hug readily. “I’m so excited for you. Fuck, this just made my day, you have no idea.”

“So moving in me with me hasn’t made your day?” Jihoon asks from where he’s curled up on the sofa.

“Oh, this is the cherry on the cake of becoming your flatmate, Jihoonie. Soonyoung and Chan are on a mission to save the gays!”

 

-

 

Hansol and Mingyu graduate at the beginning of June that year, and celebrate by coming to stay in Seoul with Seungkwan for a few days. He shows them the sights, takes them shopping, and reveals the newly renovated Pink Dive; they’d poured some of Seungkwan’s cash into getting some better fixtures, a bigger stage. They even have a proper hired and trained sound guy now. Seungkwan had quit Seventeen café and bought out the empty offices above the club, and they’re currently in the process of remodelling it into a queer-friendly café, so that the Pink Dive can be open day and night. Despite reopening for the third in six months, they’ve had only flourishing success; Soonyoung was right about both Seoul natives and people travelling into the city knowing the Pink Dive now, wanting to come by to experience the place for themselves. He hopes the popularity will be long term, and that it can be a safe haven for people, the way it was for him.

“Alright, everyone, this is my last song for the night,” she says into the microphone, and the audience react with appropriate sadness. “I know, I know, but the Dive is open all night, folks, and you’ve got the pleasure of July’s new set after I’m done. It’s worth the wait, believe me. This next one is the new song by BTS. I’m going to bet you all know it. I sure do. My boyfriend won’t shut up about it.”

The crowd laugh good-naturedly, and she smiles. “It _is_ a good song, though, so it gets the honour of being my finishing number tonight. If you know the song, feel free to join in, singing or dancing. I want to leave you guys with good vibes. Are you ready?”

The audience cheer for her, and she gets into place as the opening notes of Boy With Luv start up. She likes that it starts with her back to the audience, because she knows her butt looks great in this leotard. The choreography is sweet and fun, and the singing of the crowd powers her on as the song builds up. The heels of her boots click against the stage as she goes into the quick footwork of the chorus.

“ _You got me high so fast, I want to be with you through everything_ ,” she sings, and thinks of Seokjin. He’ll be back from tour in a few days, after so long abroad, after a new album and endless schedules. They’ve both been working hard, she thinks, and she can’t wait to see him again after such a long time apart.

The choreography is really made for seven people, not just one of her on the stage, so she improvises a bit for the next two verses, kneels at the corner of the stage to say hello to the people at the front before moving back and leaping right into the chorus choreography again. She even has a rose prepared for the last post-chorus, throws it out the way she’s seen Seokjin do, and the people cheer for her, delighted. Samuel catches it and cheers happily, and she sings the last few lines with a smile on her face. When the song is done, she bows to her crowd with a flourish and struts off stage. She high fives Tiana as she passes her on the stairs, headed to speak to the crowd for a little while before July is due on stage. Rina steps down and smiles at the crowd nearby, handing her mic over to their actual, employed sound guy. Life is good.

When she reaches the table her friends are occupying, Hansol and Wonwoo compliment her set readily—she always knew she could trust them—while Jeonghan and Joshua tease her for her choice of song.

“Okay, but be honest,” Jihoon says, chastising Jeonghan. “Wouldn’t you do the exact same if you were in her position?”

“Of course I would, but I’m not, so I’m quite happy to tease her about it instead,” Jeonghan says, and Joshua laughs at him.

“You guys don’t know how hard it is to pick music when you’re dating a member of the most famous boyband in the world,” she whines. “It’s like, the people want to see their songs, because they’re so popular! But if I choose them, I feel like I’m leeching off him! And if I don’t, it feels like a lost opportunity!” She slumps back in her chair, defeated. “I live a hard life, everyone.”

“You have actually been working hard lately, right?” Wonwoo says, gesturing to the club around them. “This place looks amazing. You’ve really done it up since I was last here.”

“Thanks!” she replies. Compliments towards the Dive make her happier than compliments about herself these days. “This place is my baby.”

“And mine, and July’s,” Tiana corrects, coming back over to sit with them as the bass beats of July’s set starts up on the stage. “You can’t have full custody to yourself!”

“I’ll have her one day,” Rina says in a low voice. “This was my grand plan all along. Infiltrate this place and be left with sole responsibility.” She rubs her hands together like a cartoon villain.

“You know, I thought Hoshi would be the last person to leave this place,” Joshua says.

“Well, she didn’t really leave, did she? Just went to make another one,” Rina points out.

“Yeah, and you enabled it,” Mingyu says.

“Are you jealous because I didn’t give you the cash to start your own gay club, Mingyu? Say the word and I’ll make it happen,” she says, putting her elbows on the table to peer over at him. He blushes a little, but he’s used to the teasing by now.

“Sure. Hand over the money, and I’ll see you in a few years.”

“Alright, not so fast, kiddo. I’m not Kim Seokjin rich.”

“You might as well be,” Jeonghan says. “If gay marriage were legal in this country, I bet you would’ve proposed already.”

Rina goes pink all too quickly. “Hey! What does that mean!”

“Nothing!” Jeonghan says innocently as Joshua grins. “A year and a half is a perfectly acceptable length of time to be together before you’re engaged!”

“I agree!” she says. “But that doesn’t mean that I would propose! Besides, it would still be his money if we were married. I’m an independent woman, you know.”

“Oh, I know you are,” he grins. “Singing to your boyfriend’s songs on stage, and all that.”

She reaches out to punch him in the arm. “We’ve just been over this, you bitch!”

“Please, have mercy,” Jeonghan says, wilting and clutching his arm dramatically. “I just came to the Dive to have a good time in a safe space! Security? Hello? This woman is assaulting me—”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” she says, about one millisecond away from strangling him. “I’m going to kill you if you don’t shut up.”

“Oh, murder on the premises too,” he says. “Maybe we should call Soonyoung, get him back here before you ruin all his hard work—”

Rina stands up and Jeonghan jumps out of his seat, ready to run. She may be in heels, but she knows this place like the back of her hand, and there’s nowhere he can hide from her. Joshua cheers as she leaps after him into the crowd on the dance floor, and Rina isn’t sure who exactly he’s rooting for, but she takes it as encouragement anyway, running after Jeonghan with a grin on her face.

 

-

 

When Seokjin lands back in Seoul, he sleeps for nearly a full day, then texts Seungkwan telling him to prepare to be picked up the next morning.

 _I have a club to run these days, you know_ he texts back, smiling at the thought of Seokjin finally being back in the same city as him again.

 _It’s a good thing I checked with Minghao that you guys don’t work on Sundays, then,_ he replies, and Seungkwan can’t help but put his tongue in his cheek. Seokjin loves to play the spontaneous romantic, but he knows he must have been planning this for a while before his arrival back home.

 _I suppose I’ll see you, then_ Seungkwan says, and smiles into his pillow. He falls asleep to the sound of Jihoon typing away in the next room, and wakes up to the sound of a resounding knock on the front door.

“Oh, fuck,” he says, realising he’s overslept. He runs across his apartment to the door and swings it open to see Seokjin standing there, looking as breath-taking as he always does, smiling at Seungkwan in his animal-print pyjamas.

“Hyung! I’m sorry, I usually sleep in on Sundays, so I only just woke up, I hope you can give me like, half an hour, because I’m not ready for anything—”

Seokjin cuts him off by cupping his cheeks and leaning in to kiss him soundly. When he pulls back, he smiles so brightly, like Seungkwan’s tardiness means nothing. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Seungkwan says, smiling and leaning in to kiss him again. “I was serious about that half an hour, though. Your plans better be flexible.” He grabs Seokjin by his jacket and yanks him into the flat, pulling him in for another kiss.

 

 

Seokjin drives them for what feels like days, but is probably more like a few hours, before he stops the car in an underwhelmingly grey parking lot.

“Where are we?” Seungkwan says, rubbing his eyes and looking around for clues, suddenly attentive. “We’ve left Seoul, right?”

“Maybe,” Seokjin says, and then opens the door on his side, hopping out of the car to avoid any more questions.

“Hey, you can tell me now! We’re here!” Seungkwan protests, getting out of his own side. Seokjin is rummaging in the back of the car, bringing out a picnic basket and blanket. He hands the blanket to Seungkwan and shuts the car door, before beginning to walk up the path into the wooded area ahead.

“We’re at Apsan Park, in Daegu,” he says, and Seungkwan hurries after him.

“You mean the mountain peak? Are we hiking a mountain?” he asks.

“Well, only if you want to. I was going to take the cable car, personally,” Seokjin says, gesturing to where the path curves, revealing a group of people queueing to take the small cable cars up the side of the mountain.

Seungkwan puts a hand over his heart. “Oh, thank God. I really thought you were about to make me trek up a mountain.”

“We have a bit of a walk when we get to the top,” Seokjin says, swinging the basket cheerily. “So save your energy! Don’t yell at me yet!”

 

He must admit, though the area looked plain at first, the mountain is beautiful once they move further up. The cable car trundles up the wire, the glass walls revealing an expanse of leafy treetops underneath them. They pass bodies of water and clearings, groups of tiny people below them walking with friends or eating with families. Birds fly overhead, and the sun shines bright, allowing him a clear view of Daegu as they move further up the mountain.

At the top they walk for a little while until Seokjin finds a place he’s satisfied with, empty and quiet as they settle down on the grass to set up the picnic. Seungkwan opens the basket to find a stack of cute little sandwiches prepared, and bites into one with delight.

“You know, at first I was wondering what we drove halfway across the country for, but this view actually might be worth it,” Seungkwan says, finishing his sandwich and propping himself up on his elbow to face Seokjin. “It reminds me of home. Jeju has a lot of mountains, but Seoul just has concrete everywhere you turn.”

“That’s what I like too. It’s so vast here. My parents actually brought me here when I was little, though I only have one clear memory from it.”

“What’s that?”

“We walked to this spot, and I looked out at the view from here.” He gestures to the view in front of them—Daegu sprawled out for miles, houses and shops and distant people going about their day. “And do you know what I said?”

“What?”

“I said, wow! You can see for infinity up here!”

Seungkwan feels a smile grow on his face. “Is that why you wanted to come here?” he asks, reaching out to run his hand through Seokjin’s hair softly.

“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “It feels safe here. It’s just you, me, and infinity.”

“Love that for us,” Seungkwan says, smiling up at his boyfriend. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

“Me too,” Seokjin says, leaning in to kiss him back, in front of the vastness of infinity.

**Author's Note:**

> i never meant for this to turn out this long omg
> 
> thank you for reading!! i adore writing tangerina, and i love this ship, thanks to that [one clip of boojin at isac](https://twitter.com/hope_boos/status/1139979912784371712). i think that clip can be held responsible for this whole work, tbh. 
> 
> please leave a kudos but especially a comment or dm if you enjoyed this fic!! im fully expecting about two readers cause i know this is a niche ship and i'd really appreciate knowing if you read and enjoyed it! constructive criticism is also much appreciated
> 
> -i want to link to [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656182/chapters/26225697) here, cause although i wasnt thinking about it while writing, in retrospect this fic probably impacted me a lot. i love it  
> -thank you to my proofreader [nishi](https://twitter.com/kwanattack) and my beta [rachel](https://twitter.com/koyahyah) for helping me make this the work it is  
> -though i tried my best to do research and be respectful in my writing, im no expert on drag culture! feel free to let me know if there's anything inaccurate or insensitive in here! im also not a gay male so  
> -if ur fave is a low key asshole at any point in this fic, it was for the plot! the characters in this fic arent meant to be accurate representations of real people, just fictional incarnations  
> -the process of how this fic came to be, in [thread](https://twitter.com/hope_boos/status/1161069024161275904?s=20) form  
> -finally, you can hit me up on twitter over on [@hope_boos](https://twitter.com/hope_boos) <3 and retweet this fic [here](https://twitter.com/hope_boos/status/1139979912784371712)
> 
> this fic recieved a general edit and update on 2019/09/11 and again on 2019/10/29 in order for things to line up smoothly with the chan companion fic, but they shouldn't be noticable differences to rereaders ^.^


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